


Knives and Ears

by ronqueesha



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-07-15 12:43:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 75,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7222855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronqueesha/pseuds/ronqueesha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many people have told the story of the Hero of Ferelden, but few have ever heard her speak it for herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Been taking part in a lot of discussions about my Dragon Age characters and their stories, especially my warden, and I felt compelled to write it all down. So here it is, framed in a way I hope is an entertaining read.

Keeran Trevelyan, the Inquisitor, fourth son of the house of Trevelyan, the Herald of Andraste and champion of the faith, slayer of the false god Corypheus, the man who sealed the breach, _skipped_ down the upper halls of Skyhold like a child on his name day. And not just an exuberant bounce-in-his-step kind of skipping, but a full on jovial jog that included a wide grin and highly-kicked knees. His long arms and legs swept back and forth as he bounded along, waving at soldiers, scholars and dignitaries alike as they stared at him with confusion and pity.

“Hello!” He stopped and waved with a flourish to a heavily gowned Orlesian debutante who had obviously wandered away from the main hall and was now lost, “Great day, isn’t it?”

Whatever she said back in her ridiculously thick accent fell on deaf ears as Keeran bounded away with a resumed skip. Maybe she would be smart enough to follow him. Or perhaps she was interested in other clandestine activities. Keeran didn’t care. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he didn’t care.

For the first time in months, he actually had nothing to do.

It had been hell on Thedas during those last months of the so-called war. Corypheus had become crafty in his desperation, sending minions and causing chaos in every corner of the known world. Quite a bit of it had to have been mere distractions from his main goals, but the Inquisition was the only force ready and equipped to handle them. Keeran had been overwhelmed, just as everyone else, with reports, meetings, field duty and a thousand other tasks that somehow kept the world from falling apart.

But it ended. Thank the merciful Maker above, it finally ended. Sure, there were still reports of rifts in various parts of the world, and a million small voices continued to call for the Inquisitor’s judgment on their petty problems, but he would get to them in due time. Today, would be his day off. The all-powerful Inquisitor Trevelyan had decreed it so.

Keeran opened a door with a flick of his wrist and hopped into the balconied walkway above Skyhold’s beautiful garden. As he did, the scent of freshly pruned leaves and the fragrant perfumes of a dozen species of plants washed over him like a scented bath, reminding him of the serenity of this gloriously stress-free day. A great deal of chantry-folk and other pilgrims milled below, among the bright flowers and emerald trees that somehow grew as lush as a jungle while sitting on a mountaintop. He hoped they enjoyed the sights and smells as much as he did. It was shockingly expensive to maintain it on a mountaintop.

A few more skips and he was past the garden and among the upper decks of the castle’s main hall. From this distant vantage, most of the common folk and peasants would gather and crowd to watch him sit and make official judgments and decrees. All the important jerks got to stand up front, next to the warm fires and within earshot of whatever he said. From here, the throne, his huge and important, not to mention _exceedingly uncomfortable_ , chair dominated the other décor and furniture, as if it, and not him, were the master of this entire castle. One of the best parts of ending the war had to have been the fact that he rarely needed to sit there anymore. Hardly anything required such a grand and pompous display of power these days.

Still, on this day of relaxation, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat nostalgic. Some big things happened on that chair. Sometimes it felt like the entire world spun on the decisions Keeran made there. Also there was that one time in the middle of the night that he and Dorian snuck down to the main hall and had… _well_ … let’s just say that the Inquisitor’s throne wasn’t the bastion of old-fashioned chantry values as some people assumed it to be.     

It took a few seconds for him to make a decision, but Keeran couldn’t help himself the longer he stared at that distant seat.

With renewed vigor in his skipping, which brought even more stares from incredulous soldiers and civilians alike, the Inquisitor moved down a flight of stairs and into the large room that Solas used to occupy. The study-slash-art gallery had been overtaken by a new wing of the library, this one full of recently written tomes about the Inquisition. Mostly stuff about their rebuilding efforts and endless lists of political and economic deals. Probably nothing but receipts and I-O-Us from various people all across Thedas. Josephine saw it as a playground of information, Keeran found it some of the most boring reading he had ever laid eyes on. Oh well, as long as she was happy, the Inquisition remained financially afloat. Although, he couldn't help but take umbrage over the fact that several large bookshelves now stood in front of the paintings their now-absent elf apostate had spent months crafting. It felt as if some of the magic had left the room now that the drawings were obscured.

“Keep up the good work!” Keeran said to the mousy bookworms who poured over the new books, arranging them on the shelves or taking notes from their impossibly complicated contents. They did not react to him as he moved toward the heavy wooden door that opened into Skyhold’s primary hall.

Varric wasn’t here today, and thus did not witness his boss and good friend emerge from the new library with a high kick and a soft exuberant “woo!” The dwarf had not yet abandoned the Inquisition, but his urges to go back home to Kirkwall were obvious to anyone who spent more than thirty seconds talking to him. Keeran felt reasonably sure that Varric’s business meant good things for everyone involved, including the Inquisition, so he never pried or poked about his activities whenever he chose to return to the castle. Still, he couldn’t help but pout when his big entrance did not receive a snarky remark or witty jab at Keeran’s physical capabilities.

The Inquisitor took one more skip-like step into the main hall before he realized that the massive room was near overflowing with peasants, priests, soldiers, ambassadors and nobles alike. They stood well away from the throne, but still managed to fill a great deal of space. His face flushed scarlet as he realized how many of them had witnessed his grand entrance.

Naturally, several dozen eyes locked onto him as he stepped inside, and several gasps followed. A few murmured words of adoration and prayer that might have been said ended with abrupt finality. Whatever quiet din had filled the air of the hall went deadly silent as everyone’s attention turned to him. The rising heat in his face gave way to a feeling of sinking in his gut, and a prickling spike in his lungs. Maker he hated it when people stared.

“Uh. Hi.” Keeran said and raised his hand, the one that glowed with faint green magic. A practiced gesture he had been taught by his advisors in moments like this. “Hope you’re… enjoying Skyhold.”

Fortunately, none of the mob rushed to him. The soldiers among them moved forward as one, not in a harsh way, and not in a way that put a barrier between him and them, but enough to send a message: Keeran Trevelyan was not to be touched. Perhaps cowed by the display of his magical… deformity, or maybe out of sheer religious exuberance, the people got the message. After a time, the novelty of seeing the Inquisitor up close wore off and people went back to staring at the opulence of his castle instead.

Keeran turned his back to the adoring people and looked back on the throne, the very reason he had come to this room. Now that he stood on the bottom level of the hall, it seemed as if the chair itself towered over him, dominating everyone and everything. The power of the Inquisition resided there. _His_ power, when he chose to wield it.

Slowly, he approached, reminiscing on memories painful and wonderful. Most of it was spent just sitting in silence, listening to Josephine or Cullen list endless platitudes, commandments, orders, diplomatic speeches and sometimes a list of crimes an accused person had committed. The majority of his time here was for show only, to make public appearances in a position of power and authority. But in those moments where everything seemed to pause, and the fate of the world hinged on the words he said…

Keeran didn’t realize he had arrived within touching distance of the throne until he unconsciously reached out and brushed his fingertips along its well-crafted back. Immaculately carved wood pushed back against his skin, while cloth, expensive and soft as the finest Orlesian ballgown, caressed his fingertips with promises of comfort and warmth. How many combined hours had he spent in this exact spot? On top of that, how many days of labor had it taken to make this? How many craftsmen and/or apprentices slaved over the sheer amount of artistry that covered it surface? Had its makers been religiously motivated, or just well paid? Did he deserve to sit here now that his job was done…?

Before his mind could ask any more question, and before his hand dipped any lower along the throne’s back, a dagger embedded itself into the chair’s immaculate back, inches away from his drifting fingertips. Tiny splinters of wood crashed against Keeran’s face as his quiet reverie died in less than a second. The whip-CRACK of metal striking wood battered his ears like a siege ram.

“You!” A small voice echoed over the hall, drowning out the sounds of everyone and everything that shared the room with him.

As if the world slowed down, Keeran turned from his chair to the source of the commotion. His delicate hand ripped itself away from the weapon almost as quickly as a viper’s bite, instinctively reaching for a sword, or any other weapon. Unfortunately, in his blue tunic and leather trousers, he might as well have been naked. In that exact moment of realization, the fear and panic of suddenly being in front of the crowd doubled over in his gut, pulling his insides as if an invisible hand wanted to yank him through the stone floor. His lungs tightened and his face grew cold out of fear.

The mighty Inquisitor, slayer of false gods and one of the most powerful men in Thedas, shrieked an intense yelp of alarm as his body reacted ahead of his mind. The pitch and timber of his scream would have rivaled a young child frightened of the dark for all of the masculine power he projected: which was none at all.

The crowd at the other end of the great hall parted as if by magic, pushed aside by sheer force of will as this new knife-wielding maniac trod into the room. Keeran could not tell if his soldiers were keeping them safe, or still reeling from the sudden attack. His vision clouded as panic overtook his whole being.  

When the world returned to normal speed, and Keeran’s heart stopped thudding against his chest hard enough to bruise, his gaze turned toward the hall’s grand entrance, where a new figure stood. Fortunately, being a veteran of too many battles to count, the terror left his body as quickly as it had entered, though it left behind the anxious feeling of being unarmed in front of a freshly thrown weapon. Also the slight embarrassment of knowing he could scream higher pitched than anyone in the Inquisition.

Clad in blue and silver, hunched and prepared for battle, he saw her.

A grey warden.

No, he realized. _THE_ grey warden.

An elf in the grey wardens was rare enough, and cut down the number of known suspects to a bare handful. But an elf who had been so often and lovingly described by many people in Thedas, including spymaster Leliana, _especially her_ , had created a crystal-clear picture in the Inquisitor’s mind.

The Hero of Ferelden had decided to grace the Inquisition’s presence after all this time. And she decided to introduce herself by trying to kill him.

The warden moved like a serpent, darting past the crowd with graceful steps, and moved up to the throne with alarming speed. Had he his weapon, Keeran would have raised it to block whatever she did next.

Where were the guards?

“You…” The elf warden growled again as she bounded up the steps and into Keeran’s personal space. Her long black hair framed her pale face like a death shroud, accenting her large elven eyes and intensely furrowed brow.

Only his years of combat experience informed him of the quick and subtle motion the elf used to reach out and grab her dagger, freeing it from the slightly ruined throne.

“I-I’m warning you…” Keeran mumbled, disarmed and unprepared as he was, here in his own throne room, the Inquisitor could not form many coherent words. He tried to raise his magical glowy-hand, but his muscles didn’t want to cooperate.

Maker, what did she do to the guards? Where were his friends? What was going on?

The most famous grey warden in history barely reached his shoulders in height, but that didn’t seem to mean anything to him in this moment. Keeran was already tall for a human man, but still dwarfed by the Iron Bull and some of the Avvar warriors he knew. Physically, he was more lanky and agile than he was powerful and strong. “A walking stick of a man”, he had been called for many years. He should have loomed over this tiny, angry elf. He SHOULD have had the physical and political power to end this in a heartbeat. But he didn’t. Her presence overpowered him in every possible way, leaving him small and vulnerable.

“Leliana told me what you did.” The warden said through gritted teeth. She did not seem to raise her weapons again, but Keeran didn’t feel confident enough to look around and see what she was doing with her hands.

“I’m sorry, what?” Keeran managed to ask, even though his throat felt closed and tight. The tiny elf woman took another step forward, thrusting her head under his chin, though still keeping deadly eye contact.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

A brief glint of polished metal at the edge of his vision caught Keeran’s attention.

“Did you think you could get away with trying to force the woman I love into bed?”

“First of all, that’s ridiculous.” What the hell was going on? Keeran hadn’t said more than ten word to Leliana in the last month, the both of them too busy by their post-almost-apocalypse duties to sit and chat. “Second, I don’t know how to tell you this, but Leliana isn’t my cup of…“ He forced his lungs to gulp in as much air as they could, which expanded his chest just enough to brush against the elf’s nose, “GUARDS!”

Total silence fell over the hall. Silence and stillness unlike he had ever seen.

And then it lingered.

Nobody moved, not even the guards.

Only the warden’s harsh breathing reached the Inquisitor’s ears.

He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable. So this was the end for him. Killed by someone arguably more famous than him, and clearly much more insane. Not the best way to go, but hopefully she would make it quick.

Then the muffled sound of leather against leather came from nowhere.

And a giggle. Followed by another.

Another slap of leather, repeated again and again. Applause.

Applause and giggling.

“Okay, I think you can let him go now.” A familiar accented voice, laced with laughter, said from Keeran’s left. Leliana.

“Do I have to?” The warden’s voice turned as well, losing every ounce of harsh anger it once had. “I was having fun.”

“Let the Inquisitor keep some of his dignity, my love. He might need it later.”

Keeran opened his eyes with deliberate sloth, just in case this was another elaborate layer of crazy on top of this already insane circumstance. Leliana had materialized in the brief moment his eyes were shut, and now stood next to him and the warden. A smile parted her lips, which in itself looked more terrifying than an army of violent warden elves.

“What’s… going on?” Keeran croaked out as he tried to relax, but the warden’s presence in his face prevented it.

Leliana’s soft giggles seemed to magically echo around the hall, and spread first to some of the commoners near the door, and then the guards among them.

“What do you think?” The nightingale asked as she slithered closer to the elf and raised a gentle gloved hand to her face. “Josephine did warn you about my pranks, did she not?” The human woman pulled the elf an inch away from the Inquisitor and her smile broadened.

“You did this!?” Keeran took a deliberate step back, adding quite a bit of extra distance between him and the lovers. All around him, the soft murmurs of laughter had bubbled into something louder.

“Of course I did.” Leliana said as she slowly turned toward him. “And I made sure everyone was well aware of my plans ahead of time.” _So that explained the guard’s lack of action!_

“Everyone?”

Leliana did not reply verbally, instead she pointed up toward the hall’s upper walkway, where the Inquisitor had skipped through just moments before. Cassandra, Bull, Cole, Cullen and Josephine stood there, smiles and applause growing rowdier by the moment, adding to the chaos of the cheering crowd below them.

The familiar feeling of warm red embarrassment filled Keeran’s cheeks as he took in the situation. Only one word came to his taxed mind. “Why?”

“Oh don’t give me that look,” Leliana clicked her tongue, “It was funny. You needed to be brought down a peg or two. Everyone does from time to time. I mean, skipping around Skyhold? Really?”

“Yeah, but…” Any retort Keeran tried to imagine died on his tongue, leaving him alone in muted silence.

The elf, who had been nothing but violence and rage mere seconds ago, looked up into his face with a very small grin. “You know, I’ve always wanted to do that.”

She stepped away from her human love and once again filled Keeran’s personal space. “Kallian Tabris,” She said, extended a hand forward in friendship. “Nice to meet you, Inquisitor.”


	2. Chapter 2

Keeran had steered well clear of the totally whacko Kallian Tabris and the equally frightening Leliana for the next two days. Not only out of fear of another “prank”, which _everyone in the castle_ seemed to have been informed of, but also for more personal reasons. In the few personal conversations he shared with the spymaster over the last year or so, he learned that the two of them had been apart for quite some time. He knew something of that ache, considering Dorian’s plans for his home and his people. Keeran had supported his _amatus_ and his driven need to try and fix what had been long broken in Tevinter, even though it meant the two of them hardly saw each other anymore. He knew that one day they’d reunite, and he’d expect the same courtesy shown him as he showed Leliana and Kallian.

Still, even though he mostly remained holed up him his chambers, or behind the heavy doors of Josephine’s office as she endlessly talked about “trade deal-this” and “diplomatic incident-that” in her excited Antivan accent, he got word of some of the things the human and elf got up to in his castle. Mostly tours of the premises, but also a few concerned conversations with people who had known them in the past, as well as a lot of time in the tavern. He prayed Sera didn't give them any more terrible ideas.

On the evening of the second day, after Josephine had noticed that he didn’t listen to a single thing she said and kicked him out of her office, he decided to drop in on the very scary ladies. He guessed he would catch them up near the rookery, where Leliana spent almost all of her time. It took considerable willpower to not take a long pause at the small corner of the library that Dorian used to call his own, full of books about ancient lore and rumors of Tevinter, but Keeran somehow managed it. He reminded himself, just like Leliana and her love had come to a happy reunion in this castle, he would get the same in due time.

True to his hunch, the Inquisitor found his spymaster and her lover sitting together over a table in the rookery, facing away from the staircase, and thus facing away from him. The human had her left arm draped over the elf’s shoulder, while her un-gloved hand slowly traced up and down Kallian’s long pointed ears. Whenever her slender fingertips reached near the base of the protruding lobe, the entire ear twitched ever so slightly. Probably a muscle reaction she didn’t even know she had, but if a lazy observer like Keeran could spot it, he knew Leliana saw it as well.

As the Inquisitor approached the table, making sure to take noisy footsteps as to herald his arrival and not invite a surprised dagger in his belly, he saw the warden tip her head closer to Leliana’s and rest on her shoulder.

“What are you doing up here?” Leliana asked without turning around. “I thought you were avoiding us.”

“Well when your girlfriend introduces herself by throwing weapons at me, I tend to get skittish.” Keeran said as he looped around the table and took a seat opposite of the women. A quick glance down showed him that they had been reading a letter together. The faint perfume that wafted his way, plus the extremely elegant handwriting that he guessed was in Orlesian made it seem as if it were a friendly letter and not some kind of official or secret report. He couldn’t guess who it was from. Kallian’s face, which had been so intimidating and frightening in their first meeting, looked quite different while relaxed. Her eyes still had an air of hard callousness, but every time she glanced to Leliana, some of it melted away. He much preferred that look to what he had been introduced to.

“It was just some harmless fun.” Leliana protested as she folded the perfumed letter and stuffed it into a pocket in her leather shirt. “A little payback for all the terrible songs you sing out in the field.”

“My songs aren’t terrible!” Keeran said with a little bit of mock outrage, but also some very real offense, and raised his hand to his chest. “I’ll have you know that Bull, Sera and I are in the middle of writing the most amazing ballad you’ve ever heard.”

“I’ve heard a few bars of it, Inquisitor.” Leliana injected with a genuine grin, “Let’s just say you have a lot of work ahead of you.”

“Fake murder attempts and now insults in my own castle,” Keeran said as he lowered his hand to the table. “What is this world coming to?”

“The second part of my grand plan to take over the Inquisition, of course.”

“You know, if literally anyone else said that, I’d be laughing right now. But since it’s you…”

“Good.” Leliana said, which actually caused the stern warden at her side to laugh, which was almost as shocking a sight as a demon clawing its way into the world through a green blob of energy.

Keeran turned to her. “So, Kallian, is it? I’ve heard a lot about you from my spymaster. It’s nice to finally meet... And also to confirm that you’re just as terrifying as she is.”

Even sitting down, Keeran could tell that the elf was significantly shorter than him, but still, just like in the hall, she filled the entire space. For a moment, she regarded him in silence, as if choosing her words carefully. When she spoke, he could not help but notice her hair shake loose from whatever tasteful style Leliana had tried to force it into.

“And you’re just as frightening as I thought _you’d_ be, Inquisitor.”

“I’ve been known to shake a few foundations now and then. Scare up some trouble, as it were. Rabble the rousers.” He returned her friendly smile with one of his own.

“I _absolutely_ believe it.” Kallian Tabris said with zero sincerity and a lilting voice so heavy with sarcasm it would have put Solas to shame.

“Anyway,” The Inquisitor said, trying to brush off the mild insult, “I just thought it was time we sat down and had a nice talk before we have to get back to the world outside. It’s not often world-changing heroes like us get to sit at the same table and talk, you know.”

“I guess I could spare some time,” Kallian replied as she looked away from him and back to Leliana, “But I think we have plans later tonight. You know the kind.” She turned back to him and whispered, _“She bites.”_

“I do not!” Leliana exclaimed a little too loudly, which both caused a few of her agents to look their way, and her pale cheeks to turn red.

It was Keeran’s turn to laugh, which he did under extreme control, lest he draw Leliana’s wrath. He kept the volume at a tasteful light chuckle.

“So what do you want to talk about?” Tabris said as she slithered her arm around the still-blushing Leliana’s back and wrapped her in a tight embrace.

The Inquisitor thought for a moment, once again caught in a situation where his decision would decide a fate. Not a very big one, just the fate of what he would learn tonight, but still.

“Well, considering that you’re the only person in the entire world who can make my spymaster blush, I think I’d like to learn more about the two of you.”

“Why, so you can use it against me? Are you trying to undermine my efforts to undermine you?” Leliana’s words cut like a freshly sharpened blade, even if spoken in jest.

“Of course. It’s only fair after you had your lover pretend to want to kill me in front of everyone.”

The nightingale huffed and rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

“So I want all the details. How did you meet? Is it true that Leliana was once a sweet chantry sister?” He let the questions pour from him like a flood. This moment was too good to pass up.

Unfortunately, the expression that flitted across Kallian’s face almost shut him up entirely. Like a shadow that passed over the moon late at night. Quick and ominous, and leaving a chill down your spine.

“I’ll give you all the details, Inquisitor. But you might not like them.”

 

***

 

_Hot blood oozed over her fingers and up her wrists before falling to the polished floor with pathetic slaps. The sensation reminded her of dipping her hand in the warm bath her cousin had drawn the night before._

_A sharp breath and a powerful knock in her thundering chest drove the memory away._

_The smell of iron and sweat charged into her nose and remained in her head like an oil slick, coating everything in its stench. She both loved and hated it at the same time. For as long as she lived, she would associate that odor with this moment._

_The stench of human innards._

_The knuckles on both of her hands were pale as snow, and her grip on the twin daggers could crush a brick. A lifetime of training with weapons just like these taught her that bruises and soreness would come the morrow. But in this moment, she did not care if she never saw a sunrise again._

_Kallian looked down to make sure her knife still remained in the stomach of the shem “nobleman”, and briefly caught a glimpse of the wedding dress she still wore. The dress Shianni had forced her to wear that very morning. The dress her betrothed had first seen her in. The dress that the humans ripped and tore as they beat her body until she passed out, then dragged through the streets like a sack of meat until they arrived at their destination. Her red and bleeding right leg and left arm stood completely exposed to the air, and gooseflesh prickled across their entire torn surface. Below the skin, her muscles tightened and coiled, steel under silk._

_Vaughan, that was this monster’s name, gurgled a pathetic sound as Kallian twisted the blade in his gut. She looked up from her dress, and the blood that now spurted from him onto her, to stare into the eyes of the man who thought he could get away with literally anything. More shem blood had begun to pool at the corners of his mouth, and sent twin crimson streaks down his throat._

_She smiled a predatory grin, showing off her teeth to him. He wouldn’t understand the gesture. Humans didn’t understand anything._

_While her main hand remained at the human’s stomach, wet with blood and bile, her off hand rose, bringing the second dagger up to Vaughan’s vision. His dark eyes, rapidly losing focus of the world, shot to the blade with an expression of mortal terror. That widened her smile._

_She placed the second blade on his neck, right where the flesh popped out a bit. The two streams of blood from his mouth avoided that lump, as if they chose to ignore it. She wouldn’t have that._

_The second knife cut through the shem’s skin as if it wasn’t there. The cartilage took a flick of her wrist, and the muscle behind it all took a gentle push, but that was all the effort she needed. What was once two little rivers had now become a gushing ocean, which landed on her cheeks and coated her lips with crimson. She managed to close her mouth in time, to make sure none of the human’s blood infected her, but she did not lose the grin. The smell of iron, bile, sweat and fear became overpowering. Intoxicating._

_Addicting._

_Kallian said nothing as Vaughan’s last breaths escaped the new hole in his throat. He collapsed onto his bedroom’s floor a moment later, his own body weight doing the work of pulling free of the knife in his gut. His remains crashed onto the bodies of his friends, two other spoiled shems who followed this one’s example. They had not died as painfully as their leader, unfortunately._

_“Maker’s mercy!” Soris said, out of breath and clutching his crossbow like a frightened child would hold onto a favorite toy. “We need to get out of here.” His ears and cheeks were flushed as he took in the sight before him. Her cousin had been standing outside of the door, wary of any more human guards that might have been stirred by Kallian’s bloody escape, but stepped inside as soon as Vaughan hit the floor._

_Kallian nodded and tossed the blood-covered daggers onto Vaughan’s body, not caring to hold the human-made devices any longer. An instant later, she bounded over the corpses of the shems and landed in front of her cousin, who writhed on the floor. There was more blood in the room than what leaked from the draining human bodies behind her. A small pool had begun to form under Shianni’s bruised and mauled body. Her ripped clothing and wide eyes told tale of where it was coming from._

_“Cousin…” Shianni whispered, her fragile voice punctuated by short, tiny breaths. “Please. Help me.”_

_“It’s okay.” Kallian said as tears, much hotter than the blood that still covered her, leaked from her eyes. A pink mixture of shem lifeblood and elven grief loosed from her cheeks and down her chin, to join the red beneath Shianni. “It’s okay, I’m here.” Her hands snaked around her cousin and drew her into a gentle embrace. Too many cuts and bruises covered the both of them for her to risk a tight, loving hug. A pained gasp from Shianni as her torso moved summoned another boiling flood. The things they had to done to her…_

_“You killed him.” Her cousin whispered into her ear, causing it to burn and thunder with renewed adrenaline._

_“I killed them all, Shianni.” Kallian said back, her own voice cracking under the weight of what she had just done. “Like dogs.” It was not her grief or sorrow that broke her speech, but the satisfaction of reliving each and every human throat she cut. Every human belly she opened. Every human expression of death she inflicted as she fought her way to her cousin. Her excited heart beat against her ribs like a war drum._

_“I want to go home.” Shianni pleaded, again with that broken, pleading voice. “Take me home.”_

_At once, the visions of murder and death escaped Kallian’s mind. In that instant, her heart calmed, her lungs stilled and her mind cleared. She still had a job to do, and nobody, shem or elf, would stand in her way._

_After making sure Shianni could stand, and calling Soris over to provide a sturdy support for her as they exited the estate, Kallian walked over to Vaughan’s cooling corpse and retrieved the daggers. With a flick of both wrists, she let the blood that had pooled on the blades splatter over her most recent kills._


	3. Chapter 3

Keeran sat back and covered his mouth with an upturned palm. She was right, he didn’t enjoy that.

“Those nobles…” was all he managed to croak out.

“Those _humans_.” Tabris snapped at him, the same shade of darkness he saw earlier had returned. “They thought they could get away with it. They thought they could rape and abuse us to their heart’s content, then walk away without consequence. I showed them otherwise.”

“I’m so sorry.” The Inquisitor confessed to her.

“You weren’t there, you probably weren’t even old enough to know what any of those words meant when it happened, either. I don’t blame you, Trevelyan. But I also don’t think you’ll ever understand.”

“No, no I agree.” He nodded as he felt warm wetness pool at the bottom of his eyes. As a child, his family had employed several elves to serve in various positions around the Trevelyan estate, but they had always been well compensated as far as he knew. And he and his brothers were always instructed to keep away from them as they worked. Aside from chantry and history lessons that seemed so distant and academic, he had no concept of what her people had gone through until well into his adulthood.

The warden looked up at him, her hard eyes growing soft. “But I also don’t want you to think I still hold that… hatred in me. Not anymore. But you needed to know who I once was. Who I almost became.”

She paused for a long time, which caused Leliana to return the embrace Kallian had wrapped around her a moment ago. Keeran also noticed a subtle return of the fingertips up and down her ear. It seemed to calm whatever storm had almost consumed the elf.

“It’s funny to think,” Tabris continued, “But if the blight hadn’t come on that exact year, at that time, Duncan and the Wardens wouldn’t have needed me. I would have died in a prison cell, never letting go of that darkness. But they did and I was recruited. In a way, I was rescued from myself.”

 

***

_Even though this Grey Warden shemlen had spared Kallian from a horrific fate in the arl’s dungeon, she did not show him gratitude. And why should she? The payment for his generosity had been a new kind of imprisonment. Perhaps even a form of slavery, if all the rumors about the way Grey Wardens treated elves were true. That thought alone stuck in her mind and made her shiver with barely-restrained violence. Good thing for the warden that he kept his armor on at all times._

_To this shem… Duncan’s… credit, he allowed her to say goodbye to her father and Shianni before leaving the city. After giving her a brief time limit to settle her affairs, he turned to hahren Valendrian and began speaking about old matters she cared nothing about. It was her invitation to do what she needed before time ran out._

_Her cousin had been carried by several men and women back to their family home, set down on a clean bed, and tended to by people who knew exactly what she had endured and what care she needed in this delicate time. When Kallian entered, the nurses urged her to be quiet and gentle, as the younger woman not only needed a great deal of rest, but had begun to succumb to a numbing tea that would hopefully let her sleep off the worst of the pain. They did not know how long she would remain capable of speech, much less conscious._

_“Cousin?” Shianni whispered as Kallian knelt by the flimsy wooden bed Shianni had used for most of her life. Kallian’s own mattress had been shoved aside, and brushed against her feet as she found a comfortable position on the floor. She wondered if it would ever see use again._

_Their tiny home had never seemed so small in that moment, and Kallian felt the weight of a lifetime of memories pour down upon her in that moment. She remembered playing with crude dolls for one moment, then recalled her father yelling at the two of them for staying outside the alienage’s gate past sundown the next. The year when playing with stuffed animals became play-fencing with sticks, and then real training with real weapons. She remembered the food her mother cooked for them after finishing those training sessions, and she also couldn’t help but think of the day they heard the news of Adaia’s murder. That night, Shianni had been Kallian’s source of strength and hope as she cried until she was sure her eyes had turned to dust._

_“I’m here, Shianni.” Kallian said as she got hold of her emotions and raised her hand to clasp her cousin’s. Shianni’s grip was so weak that she almost felt it slip away from her. But she held on and didn’t let it fall back to the bed._

_“They say you’re about to leave.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Please don’t. What you did back there… I can’t ever be that brave. I need you to stay.”_

_“I have to go.”_

_Shianni’s bleary eyes shot open, and Kallian could see them ringed with redness and heavy veins. The remains of tears, crusted white against her skin, made her almost look like a corpse come back to life. “No, no, no. You can’t. What if they come back?”_

_“They won’t come back, Shianni. I made sure of it.”_

_“They always come back, cousin. Don’t you understand? They’ll come for me again, and you won’t be here to stop them. I’ll be alone and they’ll…”_

_Shianni pulled her hand away from Kallian and turned away, lost in a haze of melancholy, as she continued to babble about the certainty of Vaughan and the other humans returning to finish what they had started. Kallian reared back, words falling useless against her tongue and her hands growing cold. What could she possibly do to help her cousin now? If she had any illusions that he had successfully rescued Shianni from a horrible fate, they shattered._

_“Shianni, I…” Whatever she tried to say fell on deaf ears as her cousin pushed her head further into her thin pillow. The washed fabric became dark with tears and saliva as she continued to sob._

_A firm hand nudged against Kallian’s back and rubbed with a warm compassion. One of the older women who had tended to Shianni while Kallian spoke with the elder and the Grey Warden knelt beside her. “Don’t worry, dear. She’s not herself right now, it’s the tea talking through her, making her see things that aren’t real. She’ll be fine after a long sleep. She’s strong enough to get through this. After all, she has you to look up to.”_

_“But what if she’s right? What if someone else does come? What if I failed her? I can't defend her if I go with the shemlen.”_

_“Then we will do what we’ve always done: defend our own.”_

_“Will it be enough?” Kallian turned her face to the elder._

_The old woman nodded. “I don’t know. But I do know that you’ve set quite an example for all of us today. You defended your family against the worst kind of shem aggression and lived to tell the story. If you can do that, maybe there’s hope for all of us elves yet.”_

_Shianni stopped murmuring and sighed a deep breath as her bloodshot eyes fluttered closed. Behind her heavy eyelids, however, Kallian could still see them moving back and forth at frightening speed. A terrible dream had consumed her cousin, and she had the feeling that such nightmares would plague Shianni for a very long time. Kallian feared her own sleep would be marred as well._

_All because she wasn’t fast enough to get there on time._

_Kallian leaned forward and pulled her cousin’s hand up to her lips and placed a soft kiss against the knuckles. “I_ will _be back, Shianni. I promise. I won’t let another human hurt you or anyone else again. I won’t fail a second time.”_

_She stood and turned around as the old woman did the same. “Come along, let’s give her some quiet. When she awakes, I’ll tell her what you said.”_

_Her father stood near the front door of their house, his eyes also downcast and full of dried tears. Instead of speaking further, the instant Kallian walked within armshot, he reached out and pulled her into a hug that threatened to swallow her whole. The others who had been invited into their home turned to give the family privacy._

_For a time, Kallian surrendered to the embrace, and let herself be wrapped in her father’s arms. Like before, memories of a life spent here flashed in her eyes. Memories of being just like this, in such comfort and warmth. Even in those awful days after her mother had been taken, she found solace right here, in this place, with him._

_“My little girl.” He whispered to her. “I can’t bear the thought of losing you again. And yet here we are.”_

_“I’ll be okay, papa.” She said as she returned the embrace, and wrapped her thin arms against her father’s torso. It would have been so easy to just remain here, tell the Grey Warden outside to go away, and shut the world out. But she knew that was just a fantasy, and it withered as she felt herself being pushed away from her papa._

_As she broke the hug, he whispered again. “Please be safe.”_

_And with that, she walked away from the alienage with an armored human serving as her companion, teacher, jailer and slave master all in one._

_It would take two weeks of walking at a hectic pace to reach whatever destination Duncan had in mind. Or so he said. For the most part, the two of them passed through towns and farmsteads instead of wild, open, and untamed lands. They banked on his reputation as a well-traveled man (as well as a Grey Warden) to secure lodgings at night, or food when they had no choice but to make camp in the wilderness. For the entire journey, Kallian kept her hand near her belt, where her favorite dagger remained sheathed. No matter how much it hurt her elbow, she kept it locked in place. Every time he turned to look at her, she felt her fingers touch the hilt. And every time he stopped, she raised the blade an inch, just to make sure it remained clean and ready to use at a moment’s notice._

_She refused to speak when they approached an innkeeper or some other building owner for their evening’s rest. Likewise, she never helped with the cooking when they camped, nor did she do anything more than roll her own sleeping pack up and sling it over her shoulder when she awoke. Duncan had to take care of keeping them alive, because she sure as hell did not wish to appease her new master any more than was required. It surprised her that he never demanded that she do her part, nor lecture her about pulling her weight or doing a “fair share” of the necessary chores. He seemed accustomed to dealing with problematic people, and let all of her insults drip off him like rainwater._

_Even though Duncan acted nothing like Vaughan or his “nobility” friends, the elf still kept herself wary of every move he made, every word he said, and every look he gave to her and their surroundings. It didn’t matter how many times he said he had nothing but respect for her skills and tenacity, she did not believe him. Even if he promised to never lay a hand on her, or even come within ten paces, she would not listen. He was a shem, and shemlen were all the same. Every morning, she took note of the vulnerable spots in his armor, and calculated how much strength she would need to force a knife into his body. And every night, she fantasized about doing it._

_One sunny day, while the two of them trudged through a field made of endless grass, with nary a tree in sight, Duncan stopped walking, closed his eyes, and took in a deep breath. The warden held out his arms at his sides, as if waiting for a hug from a treasured family member._

_“What is this? What are you doing?” She asked, her hand in the same place it had been for days, ready to strike. Her feet throbbed after an eternity of walking suddenly come to a halt, and she had to steady herself before her tired legs gave out. For a brief second, she feared he had had enough of her attitude and was preparing to strike her down. But after that moment’s anxiety, she realized Duncan kept his hands far away from his weapons._

_Duncan did not turn to face her. Instead, he took another deep breath. “I like to find places like this, where there are no other people or animals around for miles, and clear my mind.”_

_“Why?”_

_A third breath, and Duncan pulled his head back just enough to push out the lump in his throat, the same kind she had sliced when killing Vaughan. “You’ll understand soon enough.”_

_“But if I’m here, doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose of being away from everything?”_

_“Not yet.” A long, powerful exhale followed._

_Kallain took a step back and relaxed her hand, but she remained ready. Her muscles coiled and grew taut, no matter how much it burned her legs. This had been the first time they stopped at midday, and fear coursed through her stomach, sickening it. Her head also swam with the floating sensation of growing concern._

_After another quick inhale, Duncan held it for several heartbeats, arms out and head up, as if he prepared for lightning to come from the empty sky and strike him down. Again, Kallian imagined herself sneaking up on the warden, striking a vulnerable spot, and running home. But by now they were so far from Denerim, she had no idea if she could find her way back. Duncan had a map of Ferelden that may have been useful once, if she knew where they stood on the scrap of parchment. But years of use and exposure, plus writing in several different languages scrawled over its surface, had obscured almost all of the details. Only he could read it anymore._

_Exhale and the Grey Warden lowered his arms and bowed his head as if in supplication. His entire torso bent forward as he stared at the ground below. A moment later, and he returned to the open-arm position._

_“If you wish,” He said between pose changes, “I could teach you this technique.”_

_“I already know how to stand still and breathe.” Kallian snapped, her arms crossed over her chest._

_“I’m doing more than breathing. The physical aspect is just half of the process. In my mind, I am relaxing my entire being, and letting the world become clearer.”_

_“Yeah, whatever. Have fun with that.”_

_“It may help ease some of the anger you’re holding onto.” She swore she saw one of his eyebrows raise as he spoke the insult._

_Kallian stepped forward, leaning close to the stiff human. “And what would you know about anger, shemlen? What could you possibly teach me about that?”_

_Duncan lowered his arms and stepped out of Kallian’s reach. For a moment, he rubbed his temples and closed his eyes before returning to a neutral stance. Although, in his full set of silver armor, neutrality still carried a promise of danger and violence._

_“More than you know. But if you’re unwilling to learn, then I can’t teach you. It was just a suggestion.”_

_“I don’t think I’ve ever been more unwilling to do anything in my entire life.” Kallian said as she raised her hands in a dismissive posture._

_“I think we both know that’s untrue.”_

_Her hands moved to her belt faster than her mind could think about it. “And what do you mean by_ that _?”_

_Duncan remained impassive as he put his hands behind his armored back. “Who do you think armed your cousin Soris and the man who was supposed to marry you? Elves are not allowed to wield swords and crossbows while inside Denerim’s walls, correct? I learned of your predicament and I provided the means for you to free yourself from something truly horrible.”_

_Kallian had a dim memory of Soris saying that Duncan had passed out weapons to aid in his infiltration of the estate. But the whole ordeal had been so fast, and ended with a suffering that she still could not shake, that she did not acknowledge it._

_“So? Do you think your gift of steel leaves me indebted to you?” Blood pounded through Kallian’s head as she looked at the smug human. All shems were the same._

_“Yes. But you will repay that debt very soon.”_

_“How about I repay it now?” Kallian grabbed her dagger and set it free, pointing the blade at Duncan’s chest. The only sound she could hear was her own heartbeat. Her trembling, powerful muscles the only thing she could feel. The promise of blood became the only thing her eyes wanted to see._

_“I wouldn’t advise that.” In response to the threat, Duncan unsheathed his sword. The steel gleamed in the midday sun, and shone with intricate carvings made of designs that Kallian couldn’t understand. They glowed with an energy all their own, overpowering the sun itself._

_Magic._

_The two of them stood at that impasse for an eternity, staring each other down and waiting for weakness to reveal itself. Kallian noticed every time his muscles twitched, or his eyes shifted. But then again, she felt confident he did the same whenever her legs rocked or her arm slipped the tiniest amount._

_The sun went from overhead to peeking below distant mountains before either of them moved. Around them, the stillness of the hot afternoon gave way to the mournful cries and shrill calls of night-dwelling creatures._

_Kallian flipped the blade away from the human, but did not sheathe it. She hoped it looked like a change in stance, and not a desperate move to relax her weakening arm. “So is this how it’s going to be from now on? Weapons out and ready?”_

_“If you want it to be. Though personally, I’d rather it not.” Duncan did not move, although his eyes dropped their predatory glint._

_The elf felt her muscles lose all tension as she exited the battle stance. Her body shivered with relief and her bones popped as they were set free. She paused a moment before returning her weapon to its sheath, but still put the weapon away. To her surprise, the exact moment she did so, the warden did the same. His reflexes, along with his armor and magic sword, were far superior to hers._

_“You’d win, anyway.” She grumbled._

_“I’ve seen people triumph over much more difficult circumstances. Quite recently, in fact.”_

_“Don’t try to compliment me.”_

_“I’m only stating facts.”_

_They camped in that spot overnight, too tired and wary to attempt any further hikes through the grassland._

_A few days later, they reached Ostagar._


	4. Chapter 4

“I mean, if you felt like you had no choice…” Keeran said. “The way you were treated before… you felt justified.”

“That’s the thing, Inquisitor. I _did_ have a choice. And I spat in the face of it over and over again. At Ostagar, I met people who I would call ally, and some of them became my friends. But at the time, I could only see them as filthy shemlen. I saw Vaughan on all their faces, and I could only think about how I failed to truly save my cousin. If I had the power back then, I would have run away from it all and killed anyone who got in my way.”

The warden sighed. “I thought my anger kept me alive. But it didn’t, the humans did. Alistair, Jory, and Daveth. We were brought together by Duncan, and we were meant to stay together as Grey Wardens, but…”

 Leliana leaned closer to Tabris and whispered something in her ear, which Keeran could not hear. Nor was he particularly curious to find out what she said. The look in her eyes told him how private it was. After the exchange, Kallian sat up straighter and cleared her throat.

The Inquisitor took the moment to speak up. “It’s okay if you don’t wish to keep talking about Ostagar. I think everyone on the continent knows the story by now.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” She paused, considering her words. “It’s not important how Alistair and I survived, but what is worth remembering is that we somehow held on to the old Grey Warden treaties that obligated the people Ferelden to aid in stopping the blight. Alistair had the bright idea to use them to rebuild what we had lost, and maybe take the fight to Loghain when it was over. He made a convincing argument that the darkspawn would eventually reach Denerim and kill everyone inside, including my family. But if we built the army first, then maybe we could prevent that. So I stuck around.”

“If I recall, they did reach your home.”

“They did. But first thing’s first.” Kallian gently poked her elbow into Leliana’s ribs. “I’m just getting to the part you want to hear. I met this lady after Ostagar, in a village called Lothering. To satisfy your curiosity, yes, she was indeed part of the chantry.”

“A lay sister.” Leliana added.

“Whatever that means. Anyway, you’ll be sorry to hear that there were no birds or sudden musical instruments or whatever cliché the Orlesians say when two people meet.” Kallian turned her gaze away from her lover, “I wasn’t in a place to see her like that. I was still hurting from what happened to me. And the losses at Ostagar hadn’t really sunk in like it had Alistair. I didn’t feel much connection to all those who died there, still too blinded by my anger. So blind that I couldn’t see any light when it walked right in front of me.”

“So how did you join her merry band of adventurers?” Keeran asked toward Leliana.

“As you know, I was part of the chantry in Lothering. I heard the rumors of Ostagar after refugees began to flood the town, and by then I knew I had to help. As luck would have it, I met the only two surviving grey wardens in Lothering’s only tavern.” the spymaster said with a strange wisp in her voice. “If I recall, both she and Alistair refused to take me along, and Morrigan ignored me like I didn’t exist. But I believed in what I had seen, and I knew I could be of help, so I followed until they stopped demanding I leave their presence.”

“And you weren’t upset by the way you were treated?” Keeran glanced toward the Hero of Ferelden, whose cheeks had gone deep red with shame and embarrassment of the memory.

“Of course I was. It’s never a good thing to be ignored and chastised by your peers. But I believed… no, I still believe, that the Maker’s will was at work that day, and I never gave up. Fortunately, my trust paid off rather quickly.”

 “What changed your mind about her, Kallian?”

 

***

_The party had been well on the road toward Redcliffe and the home of this shem noble,_ Eee-min _or whatever Alistair called him. Days of travel through the heavy forests of the hinterlands had been met with nothing but his excited tales of the town and its castle, and a few of his favorite childhood memories of it. Now and then, he would get serious and explain the political and military aid_ Eee-min _could provide against the darkspawn, but his voice wavered every time he did so. The rumors about the Arl’s illness hung over his words like a heavy cloud._

_But on the day the distant pillars of smoke from the castle peeked over the trees, Alistair stopped in his tracks. The entire party, Kallian, Morrigan, and the two newcomers, the Qunari and the chantry sister, could see the color drain from his face. Truth be told, the redness in his cheeks had been fading since they left the last village, but Kallian assumed it to be his body reacting unwell to the constant walking they endured. This had been a total drain in one instant._

_“I- I can’t… we need to turn around. Now.” He said._

_“What?” Kallian and Morrigan barked at once, their tones of incredulous frustration matching in perfect sync and tone. The Qunari groaned._

_“Listen, I just think we need to… build up more support before meeting Eamon in person. Let’s go to the mages. Their tower’s close by, right? We can totally go meet them first, show them the treaty, and bring back news of our success to him. If we can prove we’ve got a good thing going, it’ll be a hundred times easier to convince him. A thousand times easier. I promise.”_

_“But we’re_ right here _.” Kallian said as she held out her hand toward the rising smoke._

_“I know, I know. But please, trust me. I know Eamon and I think… we really need to turn around.”_

_The trek to the tower had been full of days where Kallian’s mind consumed itself with thinking of various nasty words she should have said to Alistair, or better, violent retributions she could enact to let her displeasure be known. She fantasized about every rock and tree she passed by, and how she could use them as weapons. Or at least as implements of severe annoyance to make him feel as miserable as she did. A river stone could hit the back of his head and draw blood, but not cause serious injury. A branch could be jammed between the plates of his armor and pinch his skin, then require hours of rest so he could get it out._

_Such thoughts sustained her until they walked through the mysterious mage tower, and beheld bedlam._

_Naturally, the tower had a crisis of its own, and OF COURSE, Alistair and the new girl, Leliana, insisted they help. The Grey Warden treaties they had were for the mages alone to read and respond to, not the Templars that watched over them. And they certainly would not wait for a kill order to come from Denerim so they could legally exterminate the denizens of the tower._

_“This isn’t right!” Leliana exclaimed, raising her voice in a way that surprised everyone in the room._

_“We shouldn’t be cowering behind a locked door like this!” Alistair added. “We have a duty and a responsibility to defend everyone in this country. That includes mages.”_

_More nasty thoughts came to Kallian’s mind as the shemlen made their arguments, but again she held her tongue. Among the piles of dead mages that littered the tower’s entrance were several corpses with long ears and thin bodies. Elves like her, trapped in a place they did not wish to live, and then sent into a meat grinder. At the very least, she thought she could go off alone and save_ **them** _while the shems did their futile work in trying to bring order to a hopeless situation. So she agreed to be a part of the “rescue mission”._

_The air inside the circle tower radiated with untold energy. Every breath she took tingled all the way down her throat, and sparked as she exhaled. The tips of her hair also stood on end, refusing to be tamed no matter how many times she tried to shove it all back down. Sometimes reaching toward her daggers also caused a small spark to jump past her fingertips. Another annoying addition to an already annoying place._

_Of course the red-haired human found the entire thing amusing, especially the way Kallian supposedly yelped every time her daggers shocked her hands. Apparently the elf’s sounds of pain were “adorable”, and her wild hair made it even more so. She said her laughter kept her mind off the death that surrounded them._

_Just as Kallian felt her patience whittle down to its final specks, brought low by the discomfort of the tower, the constant stench of death even when there were no corpses around, and the incessant laughter of the chantry sister, Kallian saw them._

_Children._

_In a room not far from the main entrance, she saw a small group of them huddled in a corner, the younger ones lost to wails and screams of terror while the older ones tried to simultaneously comfort them and shield their bodies from the terrors that had been unleashed by the adult mages. Among the young ones were quite a few humans, but also tiny elves, their ears poking out from their heads like little beacons. They were not shoved to the edge of the group, nor were they trampled under the heels of the other young mages. They were part of the extended family, and were equal in their fear._

_A lifetime in the alienage flashed in her mind’s eye as she saw them. In their faces, she saw herself, Shianni, Soris and the other elven children of the alienage. She saw the times when human children threw rocks through the gates to try and interrupt the elves as they played. Their terror had been her fear when she first saw a patrol of human guards push into her home, ransacking her family’s possessions and tearing everything apart in the name of “peace”. And, above all else, she saw the same fear on their faces she had felt since the moment she woke up on that cold morning and realized she had to be married…_

_An abomination of flesh seeped through one of the tower’s walls and approached the group of screaming children. It spilled from invisible cracks like some kind of red water, spurting and oozing with obscene sounds and a worse smell, before coalescing into a mockery of a body. One limb too large, the other smaller than a newborn’s, with dozens of tiny fingers all writhing on the end like hair when drenched under water. It shambled on tiny legs that snapped and broke with every step, smearing the floor with redness as it ambled toward its victims._

_Before the other humans in her party could react beyond shouting in surprise, Kallian ran forward and held her daggers ready. She would not fail these children. She would keep her promise and not let another human monstrosity harm an elf. Yes, she would save some collateral human lives in the process, but she considered it an adequate price to pay._

_The flesh creature didn’t notice her until too late, and by then her weapons had dug into its putrid surface. Her weapons cut through muscle that stank of rot, ruptured cysts that oozed green pus, and pushed through the other side like she slid the polished metal through mud. The tiny arm severed under the assault while the large one jerked and waved its death throes as the magic creature fell apart beneath her._

_By the time the creature stopped moving, the other people with her had barely readied their weapons and turned to face the danger. If it hadn’t been for her, the children would have been dead before the shemlen could react. Typical._

_Focused only on the tears and pain in the eyes of the small ones before her, Kallian ended her battle rush and turned toward the children. Nothing mattered to her then. Not the wardens, not the war, and certainly not the people she had been traveling with. She let her lips curl upward into a smile directed at the young elves, but the effort stung her mouth muscles. She wanted to speak, but found her jaw still locked with the adrenaline._

_Just before she took a step toward, a gentle hand restrained her shoulder. Kallian whipped around, daggers still drawn and her heart beating so fast that she could feel it in her throat. She took in a single gasp of air and prepare to strike. There had been too damn many times in her past when restraints like that had meant terrible things for her. Soris holding her back had caused Vaughan to come back to the alienage and take her and Shianni away. The humans in the estate restrained her by her shoulders and arms. And now, here in this place full of misery and magic, she could never tell if it was a comrade or a new ethereal horror standing beside her._

_“No, let me.” Leliana might have had a smile, but seeing a knife raised against her had deflated it. “They’re frightened of you.”_

_It took far too long, but Kallian lowered her dagger and looked down at herself. In her mad strike, she failed to notice the gore that now covered her body, turning the silver of her armor to deep crimson, and staining the blue fabric beneath. Her cheeks and forehead felt heavy and wet with the stuff, and she didn’t want to think about her hair. She must have looked a mess._

_True to the sister’s word, the fearful gaze of the children had turned, every one of them, away from the demon and toward her. They did not see an elf who sympathized with their struggles, and wished only to comfort them in this dark time. At least comfort the elven children, anyway. All they saw was one monster turn around to destroy another, and then look toward them with weapons drawn, still eager to kill._

_Kallian didn’t sheathe her daggers, still too covered in blood to be put away, but she did flip them into a grip that hid the blades from the young ones. She sighed and turned around so she could walk away from the people she had been so intent on protecting._

_“Fine.” She said as her heart slowed down._

_As the chantry sister approached the terrified little ones, Kallian saw the change. It was as if the human’s infectious smile and cheer washed over them like a warm bath, lifting their spirits and their cheer with a magic all its own. This human, this chantry-loving shem of all people, brought light and joy to children of all kinds in the worst darkness of their short lives._

_***_

_It happened again in Redcliffe village. Against the backdrop of terrified citizens, a half-starved and broken militia and a total absence of hope, Alistair and Wynne approached her after a long private discussion within the chantry. They found her standing on the docks, where the ruined hulls of fishing boats and other lake-dwelling craft had been smashed, their wood taken either to the depths below or cannibalized into the crude defenses that ringed the village. Having grown up in the middle of a city, endless lapping water both fascinated and terrified her. Sure, there had been a river that ran through Denerim, but she could see the other side no matter what. This endless lake mesmerized her._

_“Look, Kallian,” Alistair said as he refused to make eye contact with her. “I know you don’t particularly… like me. Or any of us really. But the rest of us have decided we can’t stand by and watch these people be slaughtered. If you’re not willing to do that, it might be best if you continue with the mission. We still need to find the Dalish elves, wherever they might be. It might be best if an elf were to…”_

_“No,” She interrupted him. “No, I’m going to stay here and fight.”_

_“Oh. That was way easier than I thought this discussion would be. I had this who pleading thing in my head. I might have even gotten on my knees.”_

_“What made you change your mind?” Wynne asked from behind Alistair’s wall of meat and armor._

_“There were children in the chantry.” Was all she said before turning her back on the lake and heading back into the town, intent on finding whoever was in charge and offering her aid._

_“Children?” the old mage asked as she gave chase._

_“Contrary to what you might think, I don’t blame human children for their actions. It’s their parents that turn them into monsters. And their parents before them that started the cycle.” Kallian paused and turned to face the wrinkled shem. “If I can help break it, then maybe there’s hope.”_

_Leliana approached the trio as they made their way back up to the main barricades. Her hair had been soaked with sweat and her armor creaked as she moved. The dust and flecks of blood on her hands showed she had just finished some intense manual labor, perhaps repairing the crude wooden fortifications._

_“The militia has finished their prepar… Kallian?” She asked. “I thought you were going to go find the Dalish elves.”_

_“Clearly I’m not.”_

_The sister grinned. “I’m glad. I knew Alistiar could convince you to stay.”_

_“Don’t worry, he didn’t.” Kallian said just so she could see the other warden frown. On cue, he let out a pitiful “hey”._


	5. Chapter 5

_Saving Redcliffe village had been its own reward, Kallian supposed to herself. Not too long ago, she would have enjoyed seeing every single villager shem die at the hands of the undead creatures that terrorized the town every night. In a perfect world, she might have even brought her cousins and father to watch it happen. But with the blight looming over the land, and the faces of the frightened children still fresh in her mind, such a petty mental image had to be tossed away. There were more important things to worry about now. Besides, the more humans there were to fight the darkspawn hordes, fewer elves would be forced to do it in their stead. If she wanted to save her people, she had to save the shems._

_The survivors of the town celebrated in Redcliffe’s tavern the night after their victory, enjoying free drinks courtesy of the owner. Many of the simple folk danced and sang to off-key music, while others entertained themselves with impromptu contests of strength, gambling, and other games. A few members of the party joined them as honored guests. Even Morrigan tastefully sipped from a mug as she sat in an empty corner, a large black book in hand. The witch grimaced every time she took a drink, but she did not send it back._

_Every single human in Redcliffe wanted to buy Kallian a drink, and more than a few offered other proposals to go along with the alcohol. She rejected them, of course, as they all reeked of sweat and ribaldry. And even though she did not wish to pull her dagger on any of the humans she saw, she refused to entertain the idea of sharing a bed with a shemlen. Not even a pretty one like Leliana._

_Instead, she navigated around the unabashed party as best she could, a full drink in hand to dissuade any further offers, and just acted as a conversation starter. People would see her walk by in her silver armor and begin telling exaggerated stories of what she had done to personally save their life in the previous night’s battles._

_“That elf right there, she jumped onto the backs of three of the monsters and slashed their throats at the same time!”_

_“I swear I saw her leap onto the roof of my house and start throwing them daggers of hers into the eyes of the creatures.”_

_“Well I seen her move faster than the eye can blink! It’s like she didn’t even run between fights, she was just THERE every time she was needed.”_

_“No, no, you got it all wrong. She used her elf magic to go invisible and start killing the things from the shadows themselves!” That last boast generated quite a few awed gasps and frightened exclamations._

_“Damn, whatever elf magic is, it sounds useful. Wish I had it!” she said to the crowd after they had silenced, which caused an uproar of inebriated laughter. Though, if the truth were to be told, she did want the power to disappear. She had her fill of the party after the first few minutes, and wished to escape. On top of that, the odor of vomit had begun to fill the space as the free flowing ale began to take effect, making the already heavy atmosphere of the building oppressive and unpleasant._

_Somewhere along the line, Alistair had been given a few too many mugs, and staggered around much like Kallian. He seemed intent on copying her strategy of being seen by everyone, but not engaging them. Unfortunately, his woozy gait and slurred speech made it difficult for him to navigate around the crowds as well as she could._

_“Let me tell you the REAL story of Kallian.” He shouted as one of his eyes winked in an exaggerated fashion, as if he wanted to tell a secret to everyone. “She don’t got any magic, but she sure can kick ass.”_

_That got a cheer._

_“And hey, she’s an elf. So what? I’ve seen elves before, they’re not so different from us. If they wanna help stop the blight, I say let ‘em!”_

_A slightly smaller cheer._

_“D-did you know she was gonna leave us all here and go find elves that would fight? We thought she was set in stone about abandoning all of us to the undead. But instead, she chose to stay and showed off all her skills to everyone. And you know why?”_

_Alistair took a long drink from the cup in his hand, which seemed mostly empty. His throat must have gone dry from speaking so loud._

_“It’s because she’s a damned hero! If you heard the things she said about humans before we left Lothering, you’d think she wanted to kill us all, but look at her now. I’d say that warrants a cheer. How many people say they want to kill all of us “shemlen” one day, then turn around and save a whole town the next? Not many, that’s who!”_

_He pointed at Kallian, which caused all of the tavern’s inhabitants to turn and face her. The elf’s cheeks grew hot as she felt the eyes of every single human in the building bore into her. Whatever sporadic music had been performed by squeezebox players and fiddlers came to a sudden and discordant halt._

_The tavern had gone silent as death._

_She should have run. She really should have put her mug down, tipped her head in thanks to the people who kept rewarding her with ale, and left. It would have ended the situation with her dignity intact, and prevented anything worse from occurring. Instead, her feet remained locked in place as her mouth gaped open in shock. Her eyes locked with a dozen others as they regarded her. Mustaches bristled, muscles tensed, and the air grew electric._

_“Did I say something bad?” Drunk Alistair said as he turned back and forth, trying to see everyone at the same time. The motions made him visibly queasy and he brought a gloved hand up to his mouth. No one turned to help him._

_“Shemlen? That some kind of elf curse?” One of the villagers, a farmer by the way his calloused hands seemed permanently caked in dirt, asked. His simple question broke through the silence like a thunder clap._

_And in that instant, it felt as if a mind-altering spell had befallen the humans. Where once their words were filled with nothing but praise and congratulations for her, they began to whisper with fear and suspicion._

_“Elf curse? But he said she don’t got magic!”_

_“I knew elves hated us, but murder?”_

_“Was this blight business all an elf plot to take our lands?”_

_“Look at her, she’s probably reaching for a knife right now.”_

_“’Cant believe I got her a pint.”_

_The whispers grew louder, the eyes darted away, but the room remained tense. Kallian took a step back, toward the door. She had no interest in fighting her way out and potentially slaughtering the very people she had saved, but she would defend herself if they attacked. The looks that withered her became very familiar stares of misunderstanding and prejudice._

_If she believed in the Maker or the elven Creators, she would have prayed to them and begged for a miraculous salvation from this situation, but she didn’t._

_A fist slammed into a table and a man with one eye pushed his chair back. He growled with a voice that sounded more like an angry bear than a man._

_A chill tickled down Kallian’s spine as the man took a step toward her, and then threatened to spread through her entire body._

_At least until Leliana stood. Behind her, Wynne did the same. The old mage walked to Alistair and put a supportive hand on his back. She whispered something to him that made his weakening constitution stabilize, and he stopped staggering. No one stood in her way or questioned her abilities, they were too focused on the elf._

_Leliana moved next to Kallian._

_“Ladies and gentlemen, please. Don’t let your lingering fear from the previous night spoil this celebration!”_

_“But the other warden said-” Someone in the crowd tried to interrupt._

_“A story told by a man too drunk to stand. Just look at the poor dear.” Leliana gestured toward Alistair, who had been maneuvered to rest against one of the tavern’s walls. Wynne doted on him with a wave of magic from her hand and a clean cloth over his brow. “We’ve all been through a trying experience, so lingering fears are understandable. But don’t take them out on the woman who saved you.”_

_“But she’s an elf.” The same person said._

_“An elf who saved your life, as you were so proud to yell not one minute ago.”_

_Leliana put her hand on Kallian’s shoulder and took a step away, like a fight-ring promoter showing off their prize boxer. “Come, let us cheer for Kallian Tabris, the savior of Redcliffe!”_

_A few of the more easily-swayed drunks joined in a half-hearted cheer, but most remained silent._

_“Come on!” She encouraged, but got the same tepid response._

_The big man loomed over her, his one eye focused on her weapons and armor. He leaned his massive bulk forward, just so he could see her at eye level._

_“Get out, knife ear, before our welcome runs-”_

_Before he could finish his sentence, Leliana backhanded him._

_She might as well have blown up the building._

_It took less than a second for the rest of the crowd to jump to their feet and throw punches, kicks and slaps of their own. Not at her, and not anyone in the party, but at each other. People shouting at “elf-lovers”, others defending themselves and drunkenly laughing at the madness, created a chaos that Redcliffe hadn’t seen since the last battle._

_The large man Leliana assailed staggered backward in shock, which threw him into a table occupied by two men playing a loud game of chess. As he fell onto it, carved wooden pieces and the checkered board all snapped with the table, sending splinters into the faces of the players. They reacted by grabbing the shattered remains of the game and slapping him with them._

_This caused the other table-goers, who were occupied with their own chess match, an arm-wrestling competition and a riveting game of wicked grace, to throw their mirthful efforts to the wayside and join the chaos._

_From the kitchen, which stank of overcooked cabbage and belched steam, a serving boy ran out with a loaf of stale bread, brandishing it like a sword as he tried to calm the riot. A woman met him with a crushing embrace and squeezed the food-weapon from his hand._

_“Why!?” Kallian shouted toward Leliana as the chaos grew around them._

_To her immense shock, the bard was not ready for battle, nor had she hidden from any potential backlash at her initial attack. No, she stood in the middle of the wrecked tavern and LAUGHED._

_“Don’t you see?” the human said as the clamor of shouts and broken furniture reached a crescendo, “They aren’t angry! This is stress relief!”_

_Kallian dodged out of the way of a ball of humans all locked so tightly in a fistfight that they literally rolled across the floor. And yet, as they passed, she saw that no blood had been drawn, and no one screamed in agony. No one laughed, but neither had anyone descended into a battle rage._

_“I’ll never understand humans.” She said as she tried to step toward the door. As she did so, she spared a glance at Morrigan, who rolled her eyes and flicked her wrist at two rioting drunks that moved too close to her table. A small explosion of magic sent them flying across the room, to fortunately land on a pile of dirty rags and discarded food. After that, the wilds woman clutched her book close to her chest and transformed into a large black cat, which left the building through an open window._

_Wynne did a similar trick while keeping the nearly-unconscious Alistair close to her. A shield of magic kept the worst at bay as she opened the tavern’s main door and escorted him out._

_“Come on!” Leliana encouraged while Kallian edged closer to the exit. “Enjoy the moment!”_

_“This is insane!” The elf shouted back as she ducked under a plate that had been thrown somewhat in her direction. The ceramic shattered against the wall behind her._

_Distracted by the sound, Kallian did not notice a human man walk up behind her until his beefy right arm wrapped itself around her neck. Her hands instinctively went to her daggers as her breath caught in her lungs and she prepared to feel him choke the life out of her. But just as the top edge of the blades were freed from their scabbards, she felt a second hand touch the top of her head. And then he just… rubbed her hair like an affectionately drunk relative. Her eyes went wild with the oddity of the moment._

_“Get a load of this elf!” he yelled, which filled Kallian’s nostrils with the smell of bad breath and alcohol. “Anyone who hurts the savior of this town has to go through me!”_

_Her daggers returned to their resting places._

_No one charged him, and no one challenged him, either. Instead, cheers, laughter and merriment began to join the incredible and violent mess inside the tavern._

_Not to be outdone with strange human displays, Leliana grabbed a bowl of porridge and flung its contents at Kallian. The food had gone cold hours ago, but the shock of such a strange attack kept her from reacting. Her vision went dark as she instinctively shut her eyes against the onslaught of slimy oats and water. The man holding her laughed hard enough to shake the floor they stood on._

_***_

_The commotion died down an hour later, as most of the town’s inhabitants staggered out of the tavern and into their homes. Many, however, just found comfortable places to sleep in the streets and passed out under the stars, no longer afraid of a horde of monsters about to kill them._

_Kallian had gone back to the town’s docks and wrung her sticky hair out with lake water, grabbing small handfuls of it at a time and combing the food out as best she could. The entire sequence of events in the tavern kept running through her mind as she did so. Violence erupted, yes, but it hadn’t been the kind she was used to. Leliana called it ‘stress relief’, but when did humans start fighting each other when they were happy?_

_“I hope you at least had some fun.” The bard’s accented voice came from behind Kallian as she knelt down to wash some more of her porridge-filled hair._

_“You call a bar fight fun?” she asked without getting up or turning around. Instead, she splashed her increasingly damp hair with lake water and pulled her fingers through the sloppy mess._

_“Oh yes.” Leliana giggled as she walked closer. “In Orlais, it’s not a real party until a punch has been thrown and a baby has been conceived.”_

_“And have you… done the second part?” Kallian turned her head to look at Leliana, whose face remained locked with a grin of pure mirth._

_“Many times. Oh, not the mothering part. Just the… first half.”_

_“Then maybe you should get to it, the night’s about to end soon.”_

_Leliana giggled again and sat down next to Kallian. From a pocket in her shirt, she produced a white comb that shone in the moonlight. The carvings and decorations across its surface made it look much more expensive than the simple devices she had used in the alienage._

_“I’m content to be right here.”_

_Without a word, she helped Kallian clean the porridge from her hair._


	6. Chapter 6

“I can’t help but feel as if you’re messing with me right now,” Keeran scoffed. “I’ve seen some weird shit in my time with the Inquisition, so I can believe it when you say you talked to golems, met helpful blood mages, even found Andraste’s burial site. But you cannot possibly tell me that Leliana, my spymaster, used to be a happy and cheerful sister who loved children. No way.”

 “A lot can change in ten years, Inquisitor.” The nightingale snapped back, “I am not the same person I was back then, just like Kallian has changed. I’m sure you’re quite different from the man you were a decade ago.”

“Well to be fair, I was barely old enough to grow hair on my chin during the blight. But I can see your point.” 

“You can’t possibly be that young.” Tabris gasped as she leaned forward on the table, as if trying to inspect the ragged growth of stubble on the human’s chin, his usual look. Shaving just took time and effort he didn’t like to spend.

To her right, Leliana subtly motioned to one of her spies with a hand signal that the Inquisitor could not interpret. The young man disappeared into the shadows of the rapidly approaching evening without a word.

“I think I was barely past thirteen when I first heard about the darkspawn. And even that was secondhand from secondhand. Who knows how long it took for the news to reach Ostwick.” He paused, reminiscing of his home for just a moment. “How old were you when… you know.”

“A lady does not speak of such things.” Leliana said first, which drowned out anything Kallian might have said. “Let’s leave it at that.”

“Okay, point taken.” The Inquisitor paused and considered his next question. “So let’s go back to the idea of Leliana of all people being a beacon of sunshine on a rainy day.”

Kallian’s eyes twinkled as a mischievous grin spread over her lips. “I don’t know if she was that cheerful, but she came close sometimes. She used to try and make our Qunari laugh whenever we had a moment of quiet.”

“I considered it a challenge.”

“She failed. A lot.”

“A stoic, quiet Qunari.” Keeran whistled. “Based on the one we have here, you’d almost think it was a mythical creature.”

“Yeah, I think I saw him earlier today.” The warden said, “Iron Bull, right?”

“The Iron Bull,” Keeran corrected. “Don’t forget the article in front. He hates it when you forget.”

“Does he, now?”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

From the shadows, but most likely from the very same set of stairs everyone used to get up to the rookery, the agent Leliana signaled to reappeared. But this time, he held a large silver tray in his hands. Most of its surface had been taken up by three large flagons of ale, while the rest seemed to be piled with whatever small foods and leftover items the kitchen had left at this hour. With nary a sound, the agent placed the tray on the table between the Inquisitor and his conversation partners before once again disappearing.

Keeran set the large cups down in front of himself and the other two before taking a long drink. Leliana took a courteous sip, while the warden grabbed her mug with both slender hands and jammed it against her face. After downing a copious amount of the liquid, she put it down and wrapped her arms around it.

“So tell me more about how Leliana used to be.”

 

***

_“I hate this. Have I said how much I hate this? Because I really hate this.” Kallian nervously babbled as she looked up at the ceiling of stone that almost brushed against her head. “After this, I’m never going underground again. I’m going to go mountain climbing. Yeah, that’s it. I’ll put all of this stone under my feet and stomp on it. Who’s with me?”_

_Kallian had never been deeper than a few paces below ground before, like when exploring Denerim’s sewer system as a young elf. So having found herself buried under a mountain in total darkness, navigating through fetid tunnels that forced her to hunch forward or squeeze her shoulders together to move forward, she felt a new kind of panic. The low quality of the air combined with the crushing space and made her dizzy, while the knowledge that countless tons of stone rested just above her fragile head made her stomach rumble and groan._

_“Do all Grey Wardens complain this much?” The drunken dwarf, Oghren jeered from somewhere ahead of her. Like Leliana before, the veteran fighter somehow joined the group by virtue of never leaving when asked to. And yet here, in the oppressive darkness, she felt glad he decided to guide them deeper into this underground hell. Aside from his impressive knowledge of all the tunnels that went on literally forever, Oghren also knew which animals were tasty and which ones were full of poison and other horrible things. It saved them from having to carry huge packs of supplies that would have gotten stuck in these tunnels long ago._

_Also, he had the ability to carry an almost infinite supply of alcohol on his person at any given time. Yes, by the time he offered it around, the liquid had risen to a tepid room temperature and slid down Kallian’s throat like oil, but she took any possible measure to calm the storm inside of her mind and body._

_“Be glad we left Alistair back in the city.” Kallian said back after swallowing down another lump in her throat. “His whining would have sucked up all the air down here days ago.” She waited to hear his expected “hey”, but total silence answered. Several weeks of such ribbing had become routine for her, and she missed the sudden lack of response. He made the choice to stay behind in Orzammar and try to organize any sort of assistance, should this crazy plan to find a missing Paragon fail. Even if he could only hire a few casteless criminals, they would come out ahead in this awful place._

_From behind her, Kallian heard a giggle from Leliana. Then she stopped. “Oh, please don’t tell him I laughed.” Her voice should have echoed through the empty stone, but the crushing tightness sucked her voice away after a mere moment._

_They trudged through back-breaking tunnels for several more hours, their path lit by a few glowing mushrooms and an illumination spell from Morrigan. Leliana tried to lift spirits with a jaunty song, but nobody felt in the mood to hear it. So instead, they marched to the cadence of feet scraping against rock and sand, as well as the occasional bumps of heads against the low tunnel. Finally, after an eternity of torture, the dwarf barked a short laugh and jumped into a side tunnel._

_As she was next in line, Kallian went ahead of the others, and slid down a jumble of loose stones and dust, almost landing on her backside, before coming to a halt on top of a bed of very fine powder. Almost like a cushion, but made of rock. Her head spun from the sudden descent, but she regained her senses quickly. As soon as she opened her eyes, she had to close them again and rub her eyelids against her palms to make sure she hadn’t started to hallucinate._

_“Oh my…”_

_Where there had been stifling, crushing, impossible-to-breathe darkness before, she now stood in a cavern large enough to fit the entire city of Denerim into, and then jam two more alongside it. The walls went on almost forever, disappearing behind a cloak of darkness that only came from the limits of her vision, and not the lack of light. Stone rose up and around her in columns and pillars wider than the largest castle, supporting a cracked roof that allowed tiny shafts of sunlight to beam through. Although, from the massive size of the cavern, Kallian guessed that those little flecks of the sun were actually hundreds of feet wide and very far away. Green covered almost everything in the giant space, moss and small grasses that grew on top of and in between the rock, soaking up the meager sunlight like a thirsty beggar. A forest of trees also grew atop small hills of broken stone, reaching upward to a sky they had never seen. Some looked practically ancient, gnarled and twisted by strange eons into permanent fixtures. Others seemed new, saplings and other rod-straight growths of several different types, all ready to take their places among the underground panorama._

_Above the green, on the walls and in some of the pillars, great veins of silver and gold swirled around the grey of the rock, glittering their lustrous brilliance even in the dark conditions. Some gemstones also sat between the veins of metal, polished by unknown hands to accentuate the beauty of the place. Somewhere in the distance, the pleasant murmurs of a stream bounced among the rocks, sending watery echoes splashing for miles._

_The others gave similar gasps as they joined Kallian in the gigantic open space, even Morrigan, though she tried to hide her shock._

_“I don’t think we’ll be runnin’ out of air any time soon.” Oghren leered as he watched the surfacers gawk._

_“Oghren, this is…” Leliana gasped as she stared upward at the shimmering spires of precious metals. “This is so beautiful.”_

_“’Tis remarkable indeed.” Morrigan agreed with Leliana, for the first time ever._

_“I’m sure it had a fancy name somewhere in the past, but right now it’s our ticket deeper into the network.” The dwarf said as he pulled a flask from somewhere under his armor and took a long gulp from its contents._

_“And are we sure you know where you’re going, dwarf? The amount of spirits you’ve shoved into your bearded hole must have surely impaired your judgment by now.” Morrigan said as the awe in her face twisted to disgust._

_“I know my Branka, and I know the route she took. I’d bet my left nut that we’re going in the right direction.”_

_The witch smiled a cruel grin. “Be wary, I may take those words seriously.”_

_If Oghren heard her, he brushed it off as he finished his swig._

_“Hey, give that here.” Kallian said as soon as he finished, and held her slender hand out for the flask._

_“And what’ll you give me in return, warden?” He asked with a cocked eyebrow and an obvious tone in his voice._

_“Continued ignorance of the feeling of being stabbed. How about that?”_

_“Bah, I already know what that feels like. Here.” He tossed the warm flask to her, which Kallian almost dropped. To her chagrin, she found it almost empty._

_Oh well, he had others, she knew it for a fact. After wiping the rim off with a bit of the gambeson that sat under her armor, she finished off the foul alcohol. Like the times she had previously swallowed whatever he called brew, it tried to stick to the roof of her mouth and behind her teeth, refusing to be swallowed. But when she summoned the effort to bring the dwarven drink down, it burned her throat all the way to her stomach. Kallian growled as she pain gripped her insides like a dim fire._

_“Is there any more?” Leliana asked as she seemed to shake herself out of the wonders of the cave._

_“Not really.” Kallian admitted after pulling the flask free from her lips. “Damn dwarf’s stingy with his booze.”_

_“Shame. I write my best songs when I’m a little tipsy.”_

_Kallian tossed the empty flask at Oghren, and smiled at the loud CLANG that echoed through the massive cavern when it hit his armor. “They allow sisters to get drunk in the chantry?”_

_After returning the flask to its hidden pocket, and grumbling about ungrateful elves, the dwarf in the party pointed forward and staggered roughly in the same direction, deeper into the massive green chamber. The two humans and one elf followed with apprehension._

_Leliana kept pace with Kallian. “Not all the time, but during feasts and holy days, we celebrated just as much as anyone else. It would be a terrible waste if we experienced life devoid of joy and revelry.”_

_“I see.” Kallian scoffed as she tried to walk faster. Unfortunately, the human kept up without breaking stride._

_“Did you have any special times when you’d lose yourself to being happy, Kallian? You seem so dour and serious, I can’t help but ask. Maybe elven holidays I don’t know about?”_

_“Elves aren’t allowed to be happy. It’s against the law.”_

_“I’ve never heard of this law.” The sister stopped in her tracks for a moment as she considered the idea._

_“Of course you haven’t, you’re human. You wouldn’t understand what it’s like to be treated like an animal.”_

_A cold wind, probably from the mountains above the chamber, and leaked through the humongous cracks, wafted over Kallian as Leliana replied. “You know very little about me.”_

_The elven warden tried to move closer to Morrigan to escape further conversation, but the other woman seemed more interested in the plant life and other strangeness than serving as a distraction. As they moved through the cave, some of the piles of stones revealed themselves to be anything but. Instead of random rocks and other natural formations, the blocks that held the plants were all well-crafted stone, polished and cut by expert dwarven hands many centuries ago. The underground forest sat on the bones of an ancient city, one lost to the ravages of time and darkspawn. Every now and then, a golden carving or other decoration poked through the growth, breaking the monotony of green and grey, but no one stopped to take a closer look._

_“Branka was here.” Oghren said after jogging ahead several meters. An interesting sight to watch, truth be told. His short legs made it seem like he could barely move in his thick armor, but give a slight motivation to run, or a fight, and the dwarf proved quite agile. “You can see chisel marks where she took samples of the stone. That’s my girl, always bein’ thorough.”_

_Leliana caught up with Kallian as she watched the dwarf once again choose a direction to walk. “Did you truly mean what you said, about the laws against elves?”_

_“Of course I did.” She said with as much sarcasm as she could muster before following Oghren. “Why would I ever lie to a chantry sister?”_

_“That just seems so unlikely. Back in Lothering, everyone who lived there was human. We only saw a few elves pass through, but they seemed happy enough. And back before… I was assigned to the cloister, I never heard elves speak of such horrible laws.”_

_“Maybe it’s a Ferelden thing.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Come on, Leliana. Your accent. You’re clearly not from around here. Again, I repeat: You don’t know what it’s like. So just drop it.”_

_“But I am from here. I was born in Ferelden. I just moved to Orlais when I was very young.”_

_“Good for you.” Kallian said as she jumped over a small pile of stone to continue her pursuit of Oghren and Morrigan._

_“Why are you being so difficult?” Leliana asked with a genuine sputter of distress._

_“Isn’t it obvious? I’m a horrible evil elf and you’re all that’s good in this world: a good looking, pious human woman. I think when we both acknowledge this, we can make some actual progress.”_

_Of course, OF FUCKING COURSE, the instant Kallian realized she had admitted the sister looked good, disaster struck. The cavern began to rumble and shudder as if the entire world had been grabbed by a massive hand and shaken. No one around the warden kept on their feet, and she had to twist her body in midair to hit ground in a way that did not snap her wrists. Instead, she smashed into a mossy rock with the small of her back, and felt all the wind exit her lungs in a single choked gasp. The others did the same, to various degrees of success, before righting themselves._

_“Upwell!” Oghren roared as he pulled his massive axe out from behind him. In that moment, the drunken disgrace of a dwarf disappeared, and a terrifying force of rage took his place. He had plenty of experience with killing, and it showed on every line and scar of his face._

_As she forced her lungs to comply, Kallian saw the floor of the cavern come to life, undulating and rolling in small piles like bubbles in a boiling pot. Her well-practiced hands reached for her daggers, as a familiar stench filled the air. A smell of rot and death that could only herald one kind of creature._

_Darkspawn flooded up from their new tunnels in countless numbers, clawing up through the dirt and stone with bare hands and crude weapons. The creatures roared and shrieked as they descended on the four interlopers, readying themselves for bloodshed._

_Kallian met them first, just a hair’s breadth before Oghren, and slashed into the fleshy arms and torsos of the nearest creatures with her daggers. Now and then she had to duck under a savage swing, or jump away from a tainted sword blade, but she did it with ease. It had been a long time since Ostagar, and she knew their tactics, such as they were, by heart. The dwarf at her side swung wild, lost in a haze of battle rage the likes of which she had never seen. Even at her worst, Kallian kept herself collected, striking only when opportunities presented themselves, lest she make a fatal mistake in a fight. Oghren seemed to invite disaster with every move he made, and his enemies tried to exploit that perceived weakness to their doom. His dwarven-made axe became slick with black blood and putrid gore after mere moments of joining the fray. His drunken roars drew the attention and ire of everything around him, furthering the bloodshed._

_Behind the elf and dwarf, Morrigan and Leliana attacked from afar, gracefully leaping onto piles of overgrown stone to get better vantage points. The sister readied her bow and nocked and arrow within seconds, and sent her projectiles flying with perfect accuracy. Every time Kallian felt the breath of a darkspawn on her neck, she saw an arrow strike its heart by the time she turned around. When she thought she had a perfect opportunity to fell a tall creature, it dropped to her feet, a shaft of wood sticking out from behind._

_Not to be outdone, the witch unleashed a furious barrage of spells from her body, burning dozens of darkspawn alive with one hand, and freezing another group with the other. No matter how her magic touched them, they died in agony, pulled apart by the fundamental forces of magic. Now and then, she would slam the butt of her staff to the ground and unleash an explosion of light and power that sent any nearby darkspawn flying away into the darkness._

_Kallian had to backtrack as Oghren began moving around the field, randomly hitting and screaming at everything he saw. She retreated closer to the humans, acting as a buffer between them and the darkspawn. She danced around her foes with grace, appearing behind shoulder joints, exposed necks or unarmored torsos, only to slice and stab until they collapsed to the cave floor, entrails leaking out of their wretched bodies. She became a wall of knives, and nothing got past. Above her, on the rocks, Morrigan continued to fell darkspawn by the score, but Leliana slowed down._

_“Toss me a dagger!” She yelled over the chaos of racous darkspawn and Oghren’s war cries._

_“What?” Kallian shouted back without looking toward the human. Instead, she remained focused on ripping into the lungs of a particularly short darkspawn._

_“I’m running out of arrows!”_

_“Of course you are.” The elf muttered as she leapt away from her most recent victim and put both daggers into her left hand. She would not give Leliana one of her prized weapons, but neither would she allow the human to remain unarmed in a literal sea of enemies. Instead, she spared one second to reach into her boot and reveal a third weapon. A small backup knife for emergencies._

_“Catch!” Kallian yelled from her position below the shem. She tossed it, expecting the weapon to fly wide and end up skidding across the green stone. She did not throw it end-over-end, like in a knife throwing contest, but she also did not send it up in a lazy arc. It flew with dangerous purpose._

_To her surprise, Leliana reached out and grabbed the hilt of the new dagger with ease, and then immediately jammed it into a darkspawn that tried rushing her position._

_“Thank you!” the human yelled as Kallian resumed her slaughter._

_In that one moment of distraction, four darkspawn tried to rush Kallian and shove her against the stones that Leliana stood on. Their howls and abhorrent shouts bored into her skull as they assumed they had caught easy prey. Indeed, one even wrapped its clawed hand around her left arm._

_It took but a flick of her wrist for both daggers to be back in their homes with both palms, and a second flick to sever the major veins in the hand that held her. The darkspawn that tried to restrain her pulled back in unexpected agony, clutching its wrist as it bled out. A strike, a duck, a sudden charge, jump, slash, backstab, duck. And her newest assailants collapsed around her in a bloody tableau._

_“They are retreating!” Morrigan shouted as she continued to rain death and ruin on the darkspawn. This time, she raised her left hand as it waved three times in the air, and a small group of fleeing creatures began to cough and choke, then collapse. Oghren roared and chased after another mob._

_“Kallian!” Leliana shouted as she continued to fend off several other stragglers. The darkspawn that clambered up to her position must have missed the mob’s decision to run, and they were inches away from reaching and surrounding the barely-armed human._

_The warden grunted and ignored her tired muscles as she jumped up, both daggers still in her hands, and followed the last few darkspawn. Her lighter body and lesser armor allowed her to climb faster, as well as pull one of the slavering beasts down from its perch, and thus reach the top before disaster struck._

_Without thinking, Kallian returned to a defensive stance and put her back to Leliana, watching the last few darkspawn make their approach._

_“I heard you say ‘good looking’.” The bard teased as they finished the battle together._


	7. Chapter 7

_Kallian spent all her life in Ferelden, she had never traveled anywhere else in Thedas. So being a native of the south, she thought she understood the concept of cold. But this mountain air, deep in the borderlands between Ferelden and Orlais, chilled her very bones._

_Orzammar’s main gates were up in the mountains further north, true. But the weather by nature up north was warmer, and the path had been heated by giant braziers and open fires, tended day and night by surface dwarves and merchants as they did their business outside the city. But she preferred not thinking about that. Orzammar and the deep roads had been a special kind of hell, one Kallian had never been happier to step away from._

_After making sure that the new Dwarf king would not go back on his word to support their efforts, the party returned to Redcliffe with triumphant news in tow. Of course, things could not have been a simple “Here’s some good news, everyone. And now we’re off to further peril and adventure.” The arl’s illness had taken a much worse turn since the party’s last visit, and a desperate plan needed to be enacted to save him. Eamon’s wife, Isolde, firmly believed in the divinity of Andraste’s final resting place, and the collected ashes of her body. All that remained after the prophetess’s execution in Tevinter. Legends said a small pinch of those ashes could cure anything, even bring someone back from the brink of death._

_It was better than sitting and watching Eamon die, so off they went._

_The rumors Isolde’s knights and mercenaries managed to find pointed them in the direction of Haven, a town so isolated and remote that it didn’t exist on most maps. Only the oldest census books and cartographer’s notes, made long before the war with Orlais, even had references to it. Morrigan noted how it seemed that the town WANTED to disappear, and that it was a good sign that they were on the right track._

_The party made camp near a stream that had been frozen almost to the bottom. It took Shale several minutes of pounding with her stone fist to break through the ice and find liquid water for the party to use. (It felt strange to call the golem “she” and “her”, but the revelations they discovered in the deep roads were irrefutable. She used to be a dwarf, centuries ago.) After that, the party set up their tents in a circle around a magically-fed fire that glowed brighter than it should. The speed at which they did so astounded everyone, but the motivation to not freeze to death was a powerful one._

_On most nights at camp, Kallian preferred to keep away from the roaring bonfire Morrigan or Wynne sparked at sunset. Not out of fear of magic, just a desire to keep some distance from the shems the lecherous dwarf, and the judgmental qunari. Even when meals were done cooking, usually one of Alistair’s heavily boiled stews, she would approach for however long enough it took for him to spoon a sloppy portion into her bowl and then make a hasty retreat. After several attempts to convince her to join the group, the questions and worries about her safety came to a stop._

_But not this night. Not a chance in oblivion. The wind from high in the mountains cut through Kallian’s armor like a frozen knife, numbing her ears and making her nose ache with every breath. Kallian stood in the center, as close to the fire as she could, and held her chilled fingers up to the enhanced heat. Her every breath came puffing out of her mouth like a bellow of smoke as she did so._

_“We should have bought more blankets at the last town.” Alistair said as he unfurled his sleeping roll and shoved it into his tent. “I thought I saw some lovely wolfskin mantles that would have looked really macho and masculine on me.”_

_“As they say in Starkhaven, my friend, you snooze you lose.” Zevran said as he walked by, a massive and very fetching wolf-skin cloak draped over his shoulders. He looked no worse for wear in the decreasing temperature._

_“Oh, I see, mister showoff.” Alistair snapped back. “Tell me, did you kill the merchant who sold that, or did you get it by… other means?”_

_“Why, I am shocked by such an accusation. Perhaps I did both.” Zevran grinned as he sat down in front of his tent. The other elf spent no time producing a knife and a clean cloth from his belt, and started polishing the blade._

_“Yeah, you like… both, don’t you?” the human said with a strange smile._

_“You deny yourself so many things if you deny half of the population, my friend.” Zevran continued to smile. “Wouldn’t you agree, my dear warden?”_

_Kallian had spent most of the conversation staring at the grass just outside the proximity of the fire. She watched as it defrosted in the heat blade by blade, creating a circle of dewy mist where there had once been frozen and brittle snow._

_“What now?” she asked as she realized the question had been directed her way._

_“A woman such as yourself must know that if you deny yourself too many things, then your life becomes quite dull.” The Antivan elf said without skipping a beat with his dagger polishing._

_“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure.”_

_“She’s not even paying attention. Don’t bring her into this.” Alistair said as he  finished dumping his things into his tent and brought out a stale biscuit from one of his pockets._

_“Ah, but that is the entire point I’m trying to make, my friend. Everyone should broaden their horizons and enjoy the full spectrum of what life has to offer. It’s far too short to do otherwise.”_

_Alistair took a bite of the crumbling food before replying. “Um… we **are** still talking about killing or not killing shopkeepers, right?”_

_The only response he got from Zevran was a laugh._

_Later that night, Kallian remained outside of her tent as the others retired to their individual sleeping quarters. She sat cross-legged in front of the still-blazing magical fire and stared upward at the swaying trees and thick clouds. Winter hadn’t come to the country yet, but the mountain sure made it seem like it had._

_Leliana’s tent sat at the exact opposite side of the bonfire, but her attention drew to it when she saw the thick leather and cloth structure shuffle and warp. A moment later, Leliana emerged, draped in a heavy cloak that covered her head, clasped at her shoulder, then dropped to cover the rest of her body. She smiled when she saw Kallian sitting in front of the fire._

_“You can’t sleep either?” She asked the elf._

_“It feels strange, in all this cold. I just keep thinking of my father and my cousin.”_

_“Oh?” Lelaina said as she sat down, still on the far edge of the fire. “Tell me about them.”_

_“You wouldn’t want to hear it.”_

_“On the contrary, I’m very much interested.”_

_Kallian blew a puff of misty air before speaking. “Okay, I guess.” She took in a breath as memories and thoughts shuffled in her mind in a way she hoped would form coherent sentences. “I was just thinking about some of the worst winters I experienced growing up. We never had much money for firewood or anything, and my parents had scrapped everything in the house they could burn when I was a baby.”_

_“A little baby Kallian? You must have been adorable.”_

_The warden let the teasing remark slide. “I just have these vivid memories of sitting in my bed at night during the worst winters, when we couldn’t spare to have a fire running. I’d watch frost crawl into the house through the door, under the threshold and the cracks. It was like these white fingers trying to claw into my home, and they’d spread up the wall and sometimes cover the roof.”_

_“How awful.” Leliana gasped._

_“It wasn’t so bad. My cousin and I would wrap ourselves in as many layers of clothes and blankets as we could get and stay close to one another when it got too cold. And sometimes during the day, my father would hold us both as he nurtured whatever small cooking fire he could get going.”_

_Kallian turned her head when a mournful wolf howl echoed through the mountains, creating a chain reaction of other wolves signaling their presence in the night. The choir lasted for a blissful eternity as the elf and human sat and listened to nature. Such sounds were almost alien to an elf who spent her entire life in a city. If it hadn’t been for trained circus wolves and exotic pet traders who walked through Denerim’s markets, she would have cowered at the sound._

_“It sounds like you’ve got an audience.” Leliana said when the last wolf finished its call._

_Despite herself, Kallian smiled. “I guess they like hearing about family.”_

_“I’d like to think everybody does. Tell me more about little baby Kallian.” The shem encouraged._

_“Why?” The grin faded._

_“You seem different when you talk about your family. Less… dark. Your memories give you a lot of strength.”_

_A brief flash to Vaughan’s house filled Kallian’s mind. The bloody escape. His opened stomach. And Shianni lying on his bedroom floor, covered in bruises and torn clothes. “Not all of my memories are worth sharing.”_

_“Neither are mine. Nobody has a life without pain, but that’s the best thing about living. We learn how to cope, and how to heal. And sometimes, the best way to heal is just by talking to someone willing to listen.”_

_“Best thing about living? Were you listening to Zevran earlier?”_

_“Well, sometimes he has profound things to say. When he’s not spewing crude nonsense, of course.” Leliana smiled again. To her left, Zevran’s tent stirred and the elf assassin muttered under his breath, which came as a muffled string of swears from behind the thick tent walls. His attempt at eavesdropping had been discovered._

_The bard nodded toward the commotion before speaking again. “If you would like to keep talking, even with a slightly larger audience, I’d be willing to listen.”_

_“I’m not sure what else to talk about.” Kallian confessed._

_“You said you had a cousin.” Leliana offered. “That you were very close with. Tell me about her.”_

_“I’d rather not.” The warden said without a moment’s hesitation. She growled it more than she spoke. Again, images of Shianni so weak and broken, almost delirious in her own bed, came to Kallian’s mind._

_“If you wish.”_

_“I think I’m done talking, actually.” Kallian huffed as a large cloud of mist billowed from her lips. “Good night.”_

_“Good night, Kallian.” Leliana said with a frown as the elf crawled into her tent._


	8. Chapter 8

_After fighting through dragon-worshipping cultists, slogging through frozen mountain weather, and evading sadistic magical traps in a chantry, Kallian told herself that Haven, and the temple behind the creepy town, was some kind of punishment rendered for her continued disbelief in the Maker. It had to be the only reason this frozen hell existed. She would have preferred to put her face at ground-level Orzammar and licked the filthy stone clean than spend another minute in this place._

_Because of all the things that could have happened to Kallian, this was the last thing she expected, and the absolute last thing she wanted. It’s like this Maker-forsaken temple knew EXACTLY how to torment her._

_“Cousin, it’s so good to see you again.” Shianni beamed._

_No. No, she didn’t say it. Shianni couldn’t be here. She was back home, safe in the alienage. Far away from this madness, and as far away from humans as she could get. This had to be a trick. Another damn test from this damn shem temple built around a long-dead shem who refused to be forgotten._

_And yet, Kallian’s eyes did not deceive her. Nor did her hands when she instinctively reached out to embrace the woman standing before her. Soft clothes, as if fresh from the wash, bent under her calloused fingers. Skin as warm and clean as an infant touched her own, even though it had no reason to be there. And her breathing, Shianni’s breathing, came strong and powerful as her ears brushed close to her cousin’s face. A far cry from the pitiful gasps she managed to take back home as she succumbed to what had been done to her._

_“Shianni.” Kallian said as she tried to mask the expressions that wanted to run rampant across her face. Part of her knew this was something new, something wrong. But another part, a part she desperately wanted to listen to, begged her to accept the truth of what her senses showed her._

_“Who else?” the fellow elf said as she broke the hug and took a step back. Or did she float back into her original position, as if she were nothing but a spirit? “Life’s been good to you out there, hasn’t it? You’re respected, even among humans. I bet you didn’t expect that to happen.”_

_Kallian wanted to say no, and list all of the endless abuses, terrors and sins she had seen since walking away with Duncan. She wanted to remind this spirit-Shianni of everything she endured as a child and young adult, and how the bigger world outside the walls of their home was no different. She felt that she should have listed every crime she saw and how the humans were all responsible for the fate befalling them right now… but her tongue remained firmly locked in her mouth._

_Because she knew she would have said a lie._

_For every time she imagined a human would walk up to her and spit, or demand she serve them in some form, she could remember a dozen times it didn’t happen. Or she could recall with perfect clarity the times Alistair referred to her as the leader of their group. The talks with Wynne and Morrigan, who saw her as their equal and not someone lesser. Or, indeed, the times when Leliana would defend her when a human overlooked Kallian or tried to ignore her mission as a Grey Warden._

_It’s possible her companions were only doing it out of respect for her title and the mission at hand, she knew that. But that deep-down knowledge had become very confused of late. She could no longer trust their intentions to be hostile at every opportunity. Not after so many weeks on the road together._

_“Do you even remember us?” Shianni said with sudden venom, as if she could read Kallian’s thoughts. “Do you remember where you came from, and what your people still suffer every day? Have you come to love these humans as much as you love us? Are you not betraying your people by doing so?”_

_“What?”_

_“Answer the question, **cousin**.”_

_Kallian took a step backward. Behind her, the soft melody of steel against steel let her know her companions were preparing to battle, should this spirit prove any more hostile._

_“Of course I do.” Kallian whispered as she waved her hand behind her, begging them to stop. Or at least to hold back._

_“Do you? Do you really?”_

_“I remember, **Shianni.** ” She made sure to bite her cousin’s name in her mouth. “I remember every single day I spent in the alienage. I remember the hunger. I remember the pain. I remember the terrible things we did to survive. Every time I close my eyes, I hear the suffering of our people in my mind. I hear…” she let her voice falter for a moment. Did she dare keep speaking to whatever this was, or did she listen to that small voice in her mind that begged her to treat it like the real Shianni?_

_Was she strong enough to let her companions know about the battle that raged in her head?_

_**“I hear you,** cousin. I hear your cries every night because I wasn’t fast enough to save you. I still see the blood on the floor and I can’t wash it away. I can’t wash any of it away.” Kallian’s thoughts raced back to her final day in Denerim, and new wells of grief erupted from her eyes, hitting the stone floor of the temple with echoing slaps._

_“I failed you, Shianni. I failed you and everyone else back home for not being better. For not being faster or stronger or braver. I tried to stop the humans before they could hurt you, but I failed." she paused and took a shuddering breath to clear her lungs. "I can’t let myself forget. I need to hold on to that pain. I need to hold it tight, right here.” She pointed to her heart. “Because it keeps me going. If I let myself forget, I’m afraid I’ll lose who I am. I'm afraid... I'll stop caring.” The more she spoke, the worse her vision blurred. Her stomach tied itself in knots again and again every time she forced a word past her throat. Kallian wanted nothing more than to fall to the flat stones at her feet, to melt into her tears and disappear. But she remained on shaky, unsteady feet._

_Whatever hostility the spirit-form of her cousin may have had drifted away as she approached Kallian on invisible footsteps. When she reached out a hand to caress her cheek, warmth and comfort erupted from the touch, again as if her cousin were really here, in the flesh. Whatever she, or this spirit, did in that brief contact seemed to wipe away some of the black tar of sorrow that had filled Kallian for so long. Not all of it, but enough to dry her eyes and untie her stomach. There were other hurts, other doubts that she kept locked away. But for now, this specific time, she felt lighter. Better._

_“Oh, Kallian. I forgive you. I forgive you always and completely.” Shianni’s words came with true sincerity, and even more of the comforting warmth. “But you need to remember that what happened wasn’t your fault. You were just caught in the situation, like the rest of us.”_

_“I should have done better.” In contrast, Kallian’s voice sounded unconvinced, small._

_“You saved my life. That's got to count for something.” Shianni smiled at her, which banished another layer of darkness._

_“I just want you to know,” Shianni continued, still beaming with joy and pride, “Seeing you here, so strong and next to friends who share your burdens… it gives me hope. It gives everyone hope. You have a great task still ahead of you, but I think you can handle it.”_

_Again, Shianni moved back to the exact spot of stone she had appeared from._

_“I’ll see you again soon, cousin.”_

_And then she was gone, as if she had never been there in the first place, leaving Kallian to stand like a statue in front of empty air._

_The first thing Kallian felt after an eternity of staring at the ancient stone of the temple was a new explosion of warmth, but not from in front, like the spirit had been. This came from behind. And it wasn’t one hand, but two, and they wrapped themselves around her shoulders._

_Leliana had put her bow away and embraced her, speaking in gestures what words could never say._

_***_

_For a brief moment, Kallian had considered a petty bit of revenge on the humans as she stood before the urn of Andraste’s ashes. She imagined herself reaching for a tiny pinch of the white dust, and then “accidentally” knocking the entire container off its crude stone dais. It felt good to envision such a small and stupid act, but she knew better than the defile the urn like that. Even if were truly just a small container of magic dust, the reverence shown to it by the temple, its guardians, and even her companions showed it to be something special. After all they had endured to get here, she couldn’t bring herself to do such a thing._

_Back at the camp, several hours walk away from the horrible town of Haven and the ruined temple, Kallian sat alone. Even this night, among the biting mountain air and the celebratory mood of having passed the challenges of Haven, the temple, and a high dragon fight, she preferred solitude. The encounter with the spirit-Shianni-thing played in her mind over and over, refusing to leave. She went over every word said, and every tear she shed as she spoke to it... her. How REAL it had felt._

_A bowl of Alistair’s freshly cooked “rabbit surprise” cooled at her side while she held a small leather pouch that contained the supposed remains of the infamous human prophet, Andraste. Above, the stars twinkled and shone as they always had, and the creatures of the night moaned and croaked their twilight songs. Behind, the sounds of revelry and singing joined them. Everyone, even Sten and Shale, wished to celebrate their victory._

_“Am I disturbing you?” Leliana’s voice cracked through the semi-serene evening._

_“Not yet.” Kallian admitted as she made sure to place the pouch on top of her sleeping pack. Without an invitation, the human woman sat down next to her, her own bowl of the mystery meal cooling in her delicate hands._

_“I just wanted to thank you for what you did back there.”_

_“What did I do now? You held your own pretty damn well in all the fights we went through.”_

_“Not that. The temple. Andraste.”_

_“Oh.” Kallian said and nodded to the place she had set the pouch. “That.”_

_“I know it couldn’t have been easy for you, standing in a place so many people consider sacred. And you could have done a thousand things to ruin such an important symbol of faith, but you didn’t.”_

_“Would it kill you to know I actually thought about it?” Kallian said the words before she truly thought them. As soon as the sentence ended, she could feel her cheeks lose their color. She liked Leliana enough, especially after the sister had proven how deadly she could be with a bow or a blade. And she knew the woman held her faith very close to her heart. In recent weeks, whenever a blasphemous joke or nasty remark about the chantry crossed her mind, she refused to speak them. More often than not, Oghren or Zevran would pick up the slack._

_But still, she couldn’t explain why this sudden outburst had mortified her so. If she had magic, she might have lit herself on fire to avoid the awkward embarrassment that now flooded through her entire body._

_And yet, the only response she got was a giggle._

_“To tell you the truth, so did I. It was so small, so vulnerable. I couldn’t help but let my imagination run wild for a moment.”_

_“Hopefully the Maker doesn’t smite us for our sinful thoughts.”_

_“If he did that, there would be far fewer people in the world.” Leliana smiled._

_And then she kissed her._

_Not a full kiss, and not on the mouth, but a quick and gracious peck on her cheek. The same one spirit-Shianni had touched._

_“Thank you, Kallian.” The human said under her breath before standing up and walking back to the camp and its warm fire._


	9. Chapter 9

“First kiss, huh? Was it everything you’d thought it would be? Did it _set your hearts aflame with passion_ , as Cassandra’s books like to say?” Keeran asked as he fluttered his eyelashes like a powdered dandy toward Leliana. Knowing this tiny speck of information about her caused the edges of his lips curl into a sly grin. The sheer mountains of gossip he was going to share with Dorian next they met…

Leliana took the opportunity to take a much-too-large swig of alcohol before responding. “Let’s change the subject before someone ends up hurt, shall we?”

“Well, I can tell you that it wasn’t _my_ first kiss.” The warden chipped, “There was this guy back home, who used to-”

In response, the spymaster slammed her mug down in a manner too harsh for polite company. The abrupt sound caused the few remaining scouts and agents, as well as the birds resting comfortably in their cages, to jump in alarm.

With an exaggerated hand covering the left side of her mouth, Kallian leaned forward with a conspiratorial whisper, “She gets jealous.”

“I can see that.” Keeran nodded and sat upright. “So what happened after? Did the _torrid love affair begin as quickly as a summer storm?”_ Once again, he let the quote from one of Cassandra’s romance novels hang in the air.

“Once again, you’ll need to be disappointed, Inquisitor. After that night, I was… confused. Even though that spirit-thing in the temple said a lot of nice things, I still couldn’t let go of my hatred and rage. Not all of it. Every now and then, I would try to talk to the people who walked with Alistair and me, but they would eventually do something to force me away. A small comment here, a small gesture there. Even this one.” She pointed at Leliana, “Tried to ask me about my culture, but couldn’t help but stumble over the words.”

“I just wanted to know more about you.” The other woman said with a hint of drunken melodrama. “I said I was sorry.”

“It’s okay. In hindsight, you were adorable. But back then, I just couldn’t see the gesture for what it was.” Kallian turned to the Inquisitor with deliberate sloth, “I told her how callous and judgmental she was being about elves, and how she would never understand me, no matter how hard she tried.”

“Harsh.”

“But even as I said those horrible things to her, I felt my heart sinking. I wanted to say how much I hated her ignorance, but I didn’t hate her. I tried to explain how conflicted I was, but my stupid mouth can’t make words like she can.”

“I think I’ll take that as a compliment.” Leliana smiled.

“Well something obviously happened.” Keeran sighed as he took another drink of his own.

 

***

 

_Kallian charged into the nearly-collapsed ruins without sparing a moment to scout or to discuss the matter. The werewolves had attacked her and her companions from the moment they set foot in the forest, and she no longer cared to make peaceful overtures._

_Sten, Leliana and Alistair followed her past the rotten outer doors and into a complex that might have been grand and opulent in the distant past, but now stood covered in dust, overgrowth and rot. The others elected to remain behind, hampered by their injuries and a desire to keep the only known exit clear of attack._

_“Why couldn’t the werewolves have chosen a nicer place for their lair?” Alistair grumbled as he clambered over a ruined column. As he did so, the steel plates of his armor scraped against the ancient stone, sending a cacophony of irritating screeches and shrieks through the ruined halls around them. “I mean, if I were a terrifying and murderous wolf creature, the last place I’d want to spend my time would be in a crumbling hole in the ground. What about a clearing? Or maybe next to a nice pond? Plenty of innocent forest creatures to terrorize when you’re next to a nice pond.”_

_“Maybe they find it cozy.” Leliana offered as she gracefully jumped over the ruin and landed next to the former Templar. She made no sound as her feet made contact with the dusty floor, though she did falter for a moment as the bandage on her leg slipped and exposed the raw cuts left behind from a recent attack. A trickle of blood oozed for a moment before the bard noticed the source of the discomfort and rebound the dressing._

_“It is a defensible location.” Sten said as he took a single step over the obstacle. “Their enemies know of only one entrance, while they likely have several hidden exits. The facility itself seems mostly intact, and there are many places to hide ambushes. A well-supplied army could last for months down here. Though these wolves will likely survive longer if they resort to their animal behaviors and cannibalize their weak and sick.”_

_“You always know how to bring true levity to a conversation, Sten. Did anyone ever tell you that?” Alistair quipped as Kallian slid over the rubble in a way that scraped her backside, and would leave several horrible bruises later, but at least got her to the other side faster than Alistair’s attempt._

_“Levity is not my concern.”_

_“See, there it is again, that sparkling Qunari wit. Do they pay you extra to be a comedian, or is that part of your basic military training?”_

_Instead of continuing the conversation, Sten grunted a curse in his own language and moved forward, gigantic sword resting flat on his armored shoulder. He had to duck through a human, or was it elf, sized doorframe that had almost collapsed upon itself, and still managed to scrape the back of his armor against it. A moment later, and he held out an arm, then tested the integrity of the door with a gruff hand across its ancient carved supports._

_“Move forward. Quickly.”_

_The Qunari kept his place as the two humans and an elf shuffled under his outstretched arm, then dropped it. As soon as Sten released his grip, a small avalanche of stone and dust billowed from the remains of the door, which he deftly maneuvered away from with a frightening display of agility. A riotous explosion of noise followed, which echoed through the ruins for a torturous eternity._

_“Well if they didn’t know where we were before, they do now.” Alistair said as his hand reached for his sword._

_As if on que, a lone wolf howl seemed to answer the call of the rubble as soon as its last echo died against the stone. Kallian followed Alistair’s example and wrapped her fingers around the hilts of her daggers as she listened to the howl fade._

_“See?” He continued._

_Fortunately, no wolf creatures accosted them in that moment. Nor were they attacked after a long minute of tense waiting._

_“Maybe they assumed it to be a natural collapse.” Leliana said as she lowered her bow. She, however, did not unseat the arrow she had nocked._

_“Let’s hope, because we’re not getting out that way anymore.” Alistair did a similar change in stance to her. He relaxed his posture and his feet, but his hand did not move from his blade._

_“Then let’s keep going.” Kallian commanded as she shoved past the humans and took five confident steps forward. In front of her, a heavy set of wooden doors barred the way forward. But due to their shared experience with these barely-intact ruins, she assumed a simple push would either open them, or make the ancient wood crumble to dust._

_She assumed wrong._

_Her sixth step collided with the wood and stopped, crushing the toes inside of her heavy boots together and sending a lance of pain up her legs, through her back, and up to her eyes. A half-heartbeat later, and her face smashed into the barrier with a THUD, causing her already-spinning eyes to well with tears._

_If Leliana and Alistair found humor in the sudden stop, she didn’t hear it. Blood pumped into her long ears and her face flushed with embarrassment as she let out a long string of pained curse words. A lifetime spent among the poor and lowest classes of Denerim had given her an extremely colorful vocabulary, and she revealed it all as the agony of the locked door passed._

_At the end of her rant, she noticed Sten looking down at her, confused. Alistair’s eyes were wide, and his gaze looked everywhere except in her direction. Leliana laughed._

_“Okay,” even though her face remained hot, Kallian tried to will the shame away, “So it’s locked.”_

_“Let’s look around.” Alistair offered with a shaky tone and turned away. "Maybe there's a key somewhere nearby."_

_The chamber the four of them found themselves locked inside had yet another ruined staircase that might have once opened up into a grand hall, but was now blocked by tons of rubble and ruin. Even if the rest of the party, plus the whole nearby Dalish tribe, arrived to help clear it, the effort would have taken days. Off to the sides of the blocked stairs, the party could see several small rooms directly connected to this central chamber. Each one looked barely large enough to hold anything but a single person, like a tiny prison cell, and each one was shrouded in total darkness. It felt as if the dim light of the chamber refused to enter them at all._

_Leliana kept her eyes low for anything that might open the door, while Alistair poked his head into the dark corners and chambers, always ready to snap into combat. Sten, for his part, began to clear the rubble that blocked the way they had come from, just in case._

_Kallian herself felt drawn to something else, something that refused to let her shift attention away from it._

_In the center of the chamber, a pool of clear water had formed in the cracks of the ruined tiles, and seemed to dive an entire arms-length into the dirt below. From the ceiling, a constant drip of moisture from the damp forest above kept it constantly filled. It seemed to be in perfect balance with itself, never overfilling, but also never running dry._

_At the very least, she told herself, they wouldn’t die of dehydration if they ended up stuck here._

_The elf took a pained step toward the pool, still mindful of the ache in her crunched toe. She couldn’t help but marvel at how clean the water looked, despite being in the middle of a haven for dust and decay. In fact, the more her large eyes adjusted to the extremely dim light at her feet, she could tell a circle of grass actually grew around it. Not mold or moss like she expected, but perfect and well-maintained grass._

_Did the werewolves do this? Was this part of some primitive animalistic rite, or perhaps an accident? Maybe some underground-dwelling creatures dragged grass seeds from above and let them rest here as they took a drink._

_And there, just under the surface… how did she not notice it before? A jug sat under the water, made of perfectly molded and formed clay. The light of a crude and distant torch seemed to dance off of it as Kallian looked ever closer, almost as if it were illuminated by the midday sun. She prepared to kneel down and extended her hands…_

_“I found something!” Alistair said as he bounded out of one of the dark rooms. In his armored hands, he held an ancient flat stone covered in small chisel marks. The human did have a strange fascination for old runestones, Kallian remembered, no wonder he spotted it in the dark. “I think it’s elven.”_

_“What does it say?” Leliana asked as she moved next to him and examined the tablet._

_“Oh, can you read elven all of a sudden?” Alistair’s tone sounded more playful than annoyed, but he did noticeably keep the other woman from snatching it out of his hand._

_“No, but I’m just curious.”_

_“Don’t look at me.” Kallian said as she stepped away from the pool and held up her hands. The fascination about it still tugged at her mind, but she no longer felt the overwhelming desire to be near the water, not after such a massive distraction._

_“Let me see it!” Leliana wrestled for the tablet for a few embarrassing seconds, in which she instantly got the upper hand and snatched the stone away from Alistair. In the immediate aftermath, he stood as still as a statue, unsure of what had just happened._

_After a moment of study, she smiled. “I think it’s a book of prayer instructions. Look, there are little pictures of elves doing a ritual.”_

_“Really?” Even Kallian’s interest peaked as she moved over to examine the ancient stone. Sure enough, over Leliana’s shoulder, she could see small pictographs of elves, their long ears unmistakably sticking out of their little stone heads. The stone drawings showed elves of all kind kneeling, praying, even reaching down into…_

_…No._

_Kallian looked up, then down again, then one more time to confirm._

_And sure enough, at the end of the tablet, though it could barely be read due to age and extreme weathering, the pictographic elves clearly walked through a door of some sort._

_“Are you fucking serious?” She asked the air, which caused Leliana to jump._

_“So… if we try to replicate that ritual, do you think the door will open?” As Alistair slowly asked, Sten muttered another curse in his language and redoubled his digging. Though she couldn’t understand the exact words, Kallian could not mistake the tone. “Humans wasting their time.” She couldn’t help but agree._

_“You two have fun with that.” The elf scoffed as she walked away from the tablet and the pool to aid Sten._ Of course _those two would immediately assume some kind of humiliating elven ritual would solve their problems. They clung to their beliefs like a child held onto a toy or a blanket. Comforting, but ultimately transitory. If living in the alienage had taught her one truth, it was that there was no Maker. No god or gods of any kind up there. Otherwise, the cruelty and malice she experienced would have never happened. Rituals were for fools, and the two humans with her were the biggest fools of them all._

_She concentrated on digging. At least this physical work would free them eventually. She did not have to rely on help from above to move dirt._

_As she strained her muscles, and aggravated her aching toes, moving an endless pile stone, Leliana shuffled behind her. She did not see the ritual, but she could hear it performed under the din of scraping and digging. The gurgling of water as the sister retrieved the jug. The soft scraping of clay against stone as she set it down somewhere. A murmured prayer to the Maker and a plea to see them out of this predicament._

_And then… silence._

_Nothing._

_“Well fat lot of good that did us.” The Templar said as he kicked some dust._

_“I’m sorry, I thought you were right, Alistair. I thought I did all of the steps correctly.”_

_Another moment of silence punctuated only by grunts and the frustration of stone. As soon as Kallian moved something of substance out of her way, it felt as if ten more tons of earth moved to take its place._

_She just had to keep digging. The gods weren't here, being cruel. It was just bad luck._

_“Well… maybe not all the steps.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_More silence, though this time, soft whispers joined the clatter of the digging effort._

_Kallian still did not look back, so she jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned on the spot, to see Leliana and her soft smile._

_“What, what is it?”_

_“I think the ritual requires one more component.”_

_Kallian’s heart sank. In fact, her whole body shrank as she realized what Leliana meant. She swore she could feel her ears drooping as well._

_“You can’t be serious.”_

_“It’s not that bad.” Leliana removed her hand from Kallian’s shoulder and extended it, as if to escort her to the pool. “I’ll show you the steps.”_

_For a moment, Kallian considered just dying in this room, allowing their imprisonment to last forever and wasting away due to starvation or perhaps werewolf attack. Perhaps she could convince Sten into accepting a suicide pact, if the situation seemed dire enough. It would have been preferable to…_

_And then she took Leliana’s hand and she felt herself moving forward._

_She felt her body kneel before the pool and reach out for the jug, her arms guided by Leliana’s warm embrace._

_She looked down and watched herself as she moved toward a ruined altar near the door, holding the jug as reverently as a chantry brazier. Behind her, the human woman urged her forward. She set it down on the alter, still urged by gentle hands, and tipped it back, just enough to let a single drop of water fall from the rim. Her blush grew darker crimson as the cool liquid splashed against her lips._

_Kallian kneeled again, and Leliana knelt at her side. The two of them clasped their hands together and bowed. And while the sister prayed to the Maker, Kallian looked into her past. Years of shame and humiliation lurked in her memories. Recollections of human children laughing as they recited the names of the Elven gods, the creators, and calling them stupid. Memories of elderly humans, dressed in flowing chantry robes, swatting the back of her and Shianni’s hands as they painted their faces with mud, to better resemble the legendary Dalish. She could remember trying to memorize a verse of the chant of light, just so she could be rewarded in sweets and candy, but failed to recognize the words on the book before her. The human children she sat next to could speak them without missing a beat, and they waved their rewards in her face._

_A memory struck of lying in front of a chantry one night in the rain as it pounded Denerim. Cold heavy drops pelted her skin, leaving icy pinpricks behind as they hit her. She didn't need the Maker. She didn't need the creators. They hadn't helped her just an hour before, when humans took the pouch of food from her arms, and then kicked her into the mud. Their bootprints still covered her clothes and skin, melting away as she angrily stared at the sunburst symbol at the top of the shem building._

_And yet..._

_She remembered her mother saying a prayer to her one night before bed. Neither of her parents showed affinity for religion, human or elf, but on this one night, her mamae had broken the family tradition. Kallian had fallen ill, and didn’t show recovery for a week. Perhaps out of desperation, or maybe a sign of long-buried belief, Adaia, her mother, wracked with tears and weakness from days spent without hope, had knelt and prayed to Mythal._

_“Oh creators, oh Mythal, please. Please spare my daughter. Protect her as you’ve protected the people. I beg of you, don’t take her from me. Mythal, I… don’t let her die.”_

_As Kallian remembered the words in nearly-lost memory, her body wracked with the shame and humiliation of decades past, she heard herself speak a prayer to Mythal, to the creators._

_And the door opened._

_***_

_Zathrian had found a way in, somehow sneaking past his entire clan, the companions outside, and the legions of werewolves that still patrolled the ruined halls._

_He now paced back and forth before Kallian, and she stood before the wolves who might have called themselves the leaders, or perhaps alphas. Behind them, their lady, their creator, their protector,_ Witherfang _, hovered a hair's breadth above the dusty stone floor._

_They had ceased their attacks and begged the wardens for a parlay, even after Sten ran a last one through with his sword. They pleaded for her to listen, to see reason. To Kallian, it seemed like a desperate measure from a thoroughly defeated foe. Fortunately for the savage creatures, Alistair and Leliana agreed to their terms, and soothed the bloodthirsty desires of their two nonhuman companions. And now here they stood, caught between the beasts that had savaged them, and the elven keeper who had shown nothing but generosity and a desire to protect his ailing clan._

_“...That is the common nature of all such lesser beings,” The ancient elf said as he paced like an angry animal. Ironic, considering the beasts behind her. “Survival is all they care about. It’s all any of them think about. It does not matter if they’re human or an abomination of magic.”_

_“This is wrong!” Leliana said, her bow drawn and ready, but pointed at neither wolf nor elf. “You did this to them so long ago!”_

_The old keeper ignored her words and turned to the spirit who sat behind the crowd of fur and teeth. “They are the same savages they have ever been. Your lies have gained you nothing, spirit. Trying to speak through the mouth of another elf has failed. You will never succeed in changing my mind. These beasts will forever be punished.”_

_“What?” Kallian snapped at the elder._

_“Do you not see it, Warden? The only reason Witherfang summoned you to this chamber was not to try and broker a truce, but to try and use you as a mouthpiece. She thought if another elf spoke for her, I would be sympathetic. I am not.”_

_She turned to face the spirit, which took the form of a beautiful feminine figure. “Is this true?”_

_“I had hoped…” Witherfang, the spirit of the forest, said in a voice that sounded like the buzzing of a hornet’s nest, “That perhaps your voice could finally sway him. You are an elf, and you are also a Warden. You are a child of two worlds, elven and human. I dared hoped you could understand them both, and show Zathrian the nobility and beauty of his people and theirs."_

_“They used you!” Zathrian shouted with enough force to send spittle flying past his lips. “These monsters have learned nothing! They would have used you as a pawn, as a plaything, just like my daughter…” He cut his sentence short. But instead of succumbing to emotion, he gripped his ancient staff with a force that might have splintered lesser wood. A flicker of energy began to appear at the end of the weapon._

_“You are elven!” he said as his emotions cooled just enough to speak again. “You know what it is like to have injustice thrown in your face time and again, and this is yet another example! Their crimes cannot go unanswered!”_

_“Their crimes occurred centuries ago!” Alistair shouted with almost as much ferocity as the keeper’s. “These are not the same men that butchered your family.”_

_“Who they are does not change who their ancestors were. Wild savages! Worthless dogs! All humans are the same!” Zathrian roared and his staff grew brighter. He wildly swung it between the werewolves and the humans in front of them, keeping them all under threat. “My retribution is eternal, as is my pain!”_

_“Then we kill him now!” Swiftrunner, the werewolf that seemed to speak for the pack, pushed his way beside Kallian and roared a challenge of his own. The sound frightened her, but she did not move. Behind the savagery of his sounds, she could now hear the pained wail of a man pushed to his limits. She had heard it many times in the alienage._

_“They turn on you so quickly, Warden.” Zathrian did not lose his anger, but instead let it rise to a manic grin, as if he knew this would sway Kallian to his side. “See how their powers of speech are more lies! They are still savage beasts, and they will kill us all if given a chance! How long after they slaughter my clan will it take for them to find your home? Their bloodlust will not stop with one elven family dead. They will exterminate us, as all humans wish to do.”_

_Kallian turned to her side, to look at Swiftrunner. He towered above her slender frame, muscle and scarred flesh taut and ready to pounce. His massive paws rippled, as did his bloodstained claws. Zathrian's words were true, the bloodlust would not be sated quickly. In fact, it may have never ended._

_On her left, Alistair had his shield ready, and his sword raised. Leliana had aimed her bow directly at the elf. They were just as prepared for violence as the cursed humans they sided with._

_“We’re doing what’s right.” Alistair said with dignified power. “No matter what.” Swiftrunner twitched at the voice, but he did not move._

_“Then you will die among them. It does not matter to me if you look shemlen or not. You’re all beasts.” Zathrian twisted his staff in midair and brought it down. The entire chamber erupted in blinding white light._

_But the staff's bottom did not touch the floor of the temple. Instead, the entire thing fell from his hand as it flexed out of control. The energy at the end of the weapon dissipated like a midday cloud. Slowly, Zathrian fell forward, trying to gasp as pain bloomed from his midsection._

_Kallian had moved to Zathrian’s side in the moment of blindness, and in that one fraction of a blink, had made her choice._

_“Our people…” the ancient keeper whispered as blood began to seep from his tunic. She turned away from him, but did not loosen her grip on her weapon. Her eyes shut themselves so hard that it burned._

_The warden said nothing as the wolves moved forward as one, escorting their lady with them. Their heavy footfalls and clawed steps grated against the stone of the temple. “It is time, Zathrian.” She whispered on a breath as soothing as a summer breeze. "Let go of your hatred, and die in peace."_

_Hot blood covered Kallian’s hand now, and her mind flashed back to that fateful day back home. Zathrian no longer suffered on her blade, but Vaughan. They really felt no different to her. The knife twisted in both sets of intestines exactly the same, created the same pitiful moans, even made the same rivers of blood gush from the same pale lips._

_The stink of human guts was no different from the stench of elf innards._

_Or did Shianni now stand in front of her, hunched over as her lifeblood covered Kallian’s hand? No, no it couldn’t have been. This elf had become a monster. He would have killed everyone, even her friends, if she did not intervene. And yet, Kallian had committed a monstrous act to get here. If it hadn’t been for her need to survive, the base instinct that Zathrian accused all humans of sharing, she would not be standing here._

_Was it Leliana instead? Would she have felt the same if a human were in Zathrian’s place? Would she have celebrated, or would her heart explode like it did now?_

_Watching the werewolves revert to hairy, dirty, naked humans, and the spirit dissipate into a cloud of mist, did nothing to brighten Kallian's mind._

_She had made a choice, and it would haunt her forevermore._


	10. Chapter 10

“… It wasn’t the first time I had to kill an elf.” Kallian continued her story, though she kept her face pointed straight down. She seemed entranced by her own reflection in the dregs of her ale. “There had been elven thugs and criminals who tried to take advantage of us, and mercenaries paid by Loghain. But they had been… I don’t know. We never talked before we fought, and they usually attacked us first. I didn’t know them, and they didn’t know me. I never enjoyed killing them, but I also didn’t hate it.”

She looked up. “I hated killing Zathrian. But I had to do it. His staff moved… he would have killed her-” Kallian cut off her sentence with a sip of her drink. 

Keeran shared a glance with Leliana, who shared his concerned, flat expression.

“From the sounds of it,” he said, “You made the right call. He would have killed your friends, and probably killed you to get to the spirit.”

“Sometimes I wonder, though. Maybe the spirit had been right. What if I could have gotten to him? Maybe if she had tried the peace idea earlier, or maybe got one of his clan members to help or something. Or at least gotten someone else, someone smart enough to speak on his level. Perhaps he would have willingly ended the curse, freed everyone, and then gone back to his clan.”

“You don’t know that. You said the spirit told you that the curse also kept him alive. So maybe he had to die all along.” Keeran grunted. “I really don’t know much about magic. Dorian usually handles these things for me.”

The warden didn’t look up, but her tight-lipped expression softened. “Maybe he did have to die.” She nodded, which caused the last of her pulled-up dark hair to fall back around her face. Once again, it appeared as if a blackened death shroud surrounded her pale, angular features. “All that matters is that I defended everyone, and we walked away with an army of Dalish ready to fight.”

“From what I remember being told, you went right to Denerim after that, correct?” Keeran asked, hoping the next chapter of the Hero’s tale might bring some levity, if the rumors about her and a certain brothel were true.

“We made a few stops before that. Not all of them by choice. They gave me a chance to put those thoughts aside for a time, and concentrate on the darkspawn.”

“Oh?”

***

_Kallian knew she was about to die._

_The darkspawn that wrestled her to the ground cackled with a voice that reminded her of rotting wood crumbling against itself; a clattering, grating noise that sounded just as unpleasant as the creature looked. It had her pinned on her back, while its unnaturally long limbs forced her arms tight against her body and her legs kicked fruitlessly against its filthy spiked armor. It did not injure her with weapons either manufactured or natural, but its own bones. The diseased flesh of the creature's hands sloughed off as it pawed at her flimsy undershirt and sliced open the skin at her belly. Black and red blood mixed as it injured itself in an attempt to kill her._

_Its large open jaw, full of yellow cracked teeth, dripped black bile onto her cheeks while it laughed. It had her, and they both knew it._

_After a moment of struggling, Kallian felt the darkspawn's sharp finger bones pierce into her left side, just under the ribs. It used unnatural force to push deep into the soft muscle of her belly in an attempt to rip her open and let her innards spill onto the dark earth below her. She could feel every tiny movement inside of her body as it grasped and flexed, tearing her apart and drawing gouts of hot crimson that cascaded down her back._

_It then kicked her with one of its thin legs, driving its knee into her thigh. For a moment, Kallian's eyes squeezed closed on their own as the creature’s entire heavy weight fell onto her lower limb. The bone inside her leg snapped as the darkspawn’s armor pushed into a small point of flesh on her left thigh. She knew some more of her skin had been torn by the feeling of liquid heat that spread over her lower body. The dull crack of her own leg breaking overtook her foe's laughter for a moment, as if it reveled in the suffering it caused. Her mouth hung open in a wordless scream as she tried to process the renewed agony._

_She forced her eyes open as she felt the digging inside of her belly redouble. Muscle and sinew ripped like flimsy cloth under the bone-weapons._

_She watched its pustule-covered face move closer to hers with sinister intent. The creature's unnaturally wide grin spread as it exposed more rotten teeth, and for a moment she feared it meant to come into contact with her own mouth. The stench of its fetid breath and sulfurous sweat mixed in her nostrils, and churned her stomach. She half-hoped she vomited on it, at least that might have provided a distraction. But her body did not cooperate._

_Instead, its diseased jaw clenched around her neck, and a dozen razor-sharp pinpricks of agony erupted in the flesh as it bit her._

_She knew this would be her end._

_And she was afraid._

_Ever since that moment in the Brecilian temple, kneeling before the ancient elven altar with Leliana at her side, Kallian’s thoughts would not stop racing back to memories of her mother, of her people's religion, and even Adraste. All her life, Kallian told herself that no gods, human or elf, existed. It was the reason no prayers were ever answered, and why she had endured so many awful things in her life. And yet, if so many people believed…_ if Leliana believed _… then maybe, just maybe..._

_Would the Maker, or the creators, or whatever, look down on her and smile? Or would they see a little elf that had swallowed all of the world’s cruelty then learned to spit it back out? Would she be granted an eternal paradise at the Maker’s side, or would she be cast into an endless void, to forever revisit her sins in endless torment?_

_Would anyone miss her when she died? Would anyone care another poor elf had left the world?_

_As far as she could tell, the answer was “no”. Only people who showed true pious devotion got the rewards. Only those who spent a lifetime doing good things, speaking the right words and leading a perfect example, be it human or elf, ascended into some kind of afterlife. Good souls like Alistair and Leliana, or children too innocent to know any different, were given a joyful eternity._

_Trash like her, dregs of society, outcasts and vile things, were never shown mercy. In this life or the next._

_And now here she lay, overpowered by a darkspawn ambush in the middle of the night, claws digging into the muscles and organs at her side, legs kicking and breaking her bones, and teeth digging into her neck. Death had come for her, and the coming oblivion froze her to the core._

_The darkspawn’s teeth scraped against her neck again, and pulled several strips of flesh away from her body. She felt her heartbeat increase, pounding against her chest like Oghren’s war hammer as it did so. Her strained lungs, constricted by the weight of the thing pinning her down, managed to draw tiny, panicked breaths. The oppressive darkness around her grew like smoke, shrinking the world until the only two beings that existed were she and the darkspawn._

_Though her arms could not move, pinned to the ground with enough force that she felt her elbows scraping against the bones in her arms, her hands were free to wriggle and clench. Her fingers on both sides pulled and stretched outward as far as they could, scrambling in the darkness for something, anything, to save herself with. Her digits extended themselves so much that she felt certain they would pop out of their sockets and she would lose control of her hands._

_And yet one of the fingers on her right side made contact with something._

_She stretched, the darkspawn continued to bite, claw and kick. Warmth from her wounds had begun to sap away, and the cool evening air chilled her nose and ears like a deep winter wind._

_Dying._

_Her fingers pulled, and wrapped around something smooth, familiar, and cold._

_The darkspawn pulled its head back, and took another bite of flesh with it. In the dim light, all Kallian could see were the huge drops of crimson that oozed from its exposed teeth. They landed on her face to mix with the bile it spit on her before. Her neck went numb._

_Afraid._

_She pulled her hand back, clutching a dagger. A flick of her wrist was all she could manage, but it would have to be enough. While distracted by chewing on her body, Kallian flipped the grip of the dagger in her hand, gripped it with the last of her strength, and stabbed into the darkspawn’s pawing arm._

_It shrieked as she expected it to, as she had heard dozens of similar creatures yell when struck by her weapons. The bone-claws inside of her went wild as the creature reacted to the pain, shredding new muscles and tissue as it ripped free of her and instinctively tried to end the source of its suffering. The gaping wounds left behind by the claws sent new shocks of agony through her body. Open air and a sudden new cascade of blood created a sensation Kallian likened to four red-hot pokers being stuck into her flesh, then left to cook her from the inside out._

_The darkspawn reared up in a pose that almost mocked a lover lost in ecstasy, back arched and limbs tight, before it went back down and snatched the dagger that had cut into its arm. It wrenched the weapon from Kallian’s weakening grip with little effort, then tossed it away. It laughed once more and bent over her chin, intent on another bite of soft elf flesh._

_That's when it died._

_An arrow, fired from a dozen yards away, struck the slavering monster in the left eye socket, crushing its beady orb and sending a gout of yellow-white fluid down its cheek. Whatever ravenous motions the darkspawn had been in the middle of as it prepared to attack Kallian anew, ceased in an instant as its brain turned to mush behind the arrow’s point._

_The heavy bulk of the creature fell on top of her injured and ruined body, which pushed out whatever meager amounts of air her ravaged lungs had managed to take in._

_She heard voices then, friends and companions asking each other if they were all right, worried about another darkspawn ambush, and resolving to pack up the camp as fast as they could._

_It took far too long for them to talk about her, and by then, their voices sounded blurred and distant._

_As she concentrated on the growing pool of warmth below her, and the numbing agony in her neck, paralyzing terror continued to rise from deep within._

_Dying._

_And afraid._

_***_

_The first thing Kallian saw when she opened her eyes, which required considerable effort, had been a human face. But a face she could not recognize, no matter how hard concentrated. And the longer she tried, the more her vision swam and twirled like she were being spun around by an ogre. She had to force her eyelids shut as the urge to vomit peaked in her stomach. Before she knew it, silent stillness had taken her away._

_The second thing she could see, after another long fight with herself, had been an open blue sky, and treetops as they passed at a leisurely pace. But even that came to an end as overwhelming weariness took her, and everything returned to black oblivion._

_Finally, after an internal argument that felt as if it lasted weeks, she resolved to open her eyes and keep them open._

_“Shh,” Leliana whispered as her smiling face appeared above Kallian, near her forehead. The human’s fire-red hair draped over her, unkempt and uncombed, and tickled against the elf’s nose. “You must keep resting.”_

_Keeping the human’s eyes locked with her own, Kallian forced the rest of her body to wake up. Any hints of exhaustion and nausea were ignored as she concentrated on reconnecting with the world around her. She could feel her body wrapped in something tight, but not constricting. A blanket perhaps, swaddled around her with expert skill. Her arms and legs itched under its heavy knitted cloth, but she could not move to scratch them. She tried to wriggle, but a sharp stab under her ribs ended the effort before it began. Her eyes welled with pained tears as she endured the agony, which Leliana noticed immediately._

_“Oh, please don’t move, Kallian. You were very badly hurt and your body needs more rest before Wynne can use her magic again.” The human’s soft hands reached up to cradle both of the elf’s cheeks, bathing her face in warmth. Leliana’s two thumbs, with untold gentility, wiped under Kallian’s eyes, drawing the tears away and clearing her vision. “That’s better.” She smiled._

_“How long?” the warden managed to ask, even as her lungs exploded into a firestorm and the lances at her side redoubled._

_“The darkspawn attacked our camp two weeks ago. We’ve been on the move since then, not staying still for more than a few hours at a time. I don’t know if you can feel it, wrapped up in so many blankets like that, but you’ve got the luxury seat in the back of a wagon.”_

_In fact, as soon as Leliana said the words, Kallian could feel the sturdy, shaking wood underneath her. Every now and then, a small bump announced the vehicle’s passage over a rock or small divot in the road they traveled. Strangely, the scent of horse did not fill her lungs as she took in a pained, experimental breath. In fact, she did not detect the stink of any pack animals._

_“How?”_

_“As soon as we felt sure no more darkspawn were nearby, Alistair and I ran to back to the Dalish as fast as we could. Wynne remained with you to use their healing magic. You were… almost gone.” A flash of deep sorrow crossed Leliana’s face, before she covered it in a mask of false cheer. “The clan were more than happy to part with one of their older wagons, and we brought it back to you.”_

_“But who’s pulling…?”_

_“Is it finally awake? Can I stop pulling this ridiculous thing now?” Shale called from somewhere beyond Kallian, though the position of the voice made it clear the golem stood very close._

_“No, Shale.” Alistair said from nearby, his voice wracked with worry, “We’ve still got quite a ways to go.”_

_“Maybe I will tie_ **_it_ ** _to the cart next it sleeps, and force_ **_it_ ** _to drag this wheeled contraption for a while.” Shale complained with her usual sass, though she did not stop her leisurely pace._

_“Where are we going?” Kallian whispered up to Leliana._

_“Back to Orzammar. You, Zevran and Morrigan were all injured by the darkspawn, and the two of them are growing weaker by the day. We fear they used poison on us. And if anyone has the cure, it will be the dwarves.”_

_Kallian sighed and bumped her head against the wood of the cart. Of all the places she wished to never return to, Orzammar topped her list. Dwarven politics, endless darkspawn, crazy paragons and the constant heat of open lava pits all combined into a mishmash stew of unpleasantness that she was glad to have walked away from months ago._

_Leliana seemed to pick up on her dismayed expression. “Oh it won’t be so bad this time. I promise, no more deep roads or politics. Just a quick visit to a healer, and then maybe we can go back to the market district when we’re done. Maybe find a shoe store. Can you imagine it? What do dwarf shoe stores even look like?” Whatever powers carried through the human’s giggle made Kallian smile despite her physical discomfort._

_Wynne popped into the cart now and then, to redress wounds and use some of her magic to speed the healing process. With Kallian in such a weak condition, especially on the inside, the mage dared not overextend her magic. “The tiniest miscalculation of power, and your muscles might attach themselves to your kidneys.” The mage said. “Best to take it slow for now, and wait until you’re strong enough to take a bigger dose. It won’t be long, I promise.”_

_Other members of the group, save Shale, also joined her at different times as the party marched across Ferelden without adequate food or sleep. But for the most part, any conversations they shared were brief and flat before a catnap took one or both of them._

_Kallian spent most of her time while trapped under the mountain of cloth and inside a mangled body, staring upward at a sky that remained achingly blue and cloud-free during the day. And at night, boundless fields of stars, whirling and swirling eternally in their slow dance. In those stars, her mind wandered._

_She could still feel the darkspawn as its bone-claws tore through her insides. She felt its weight still pressed against her leg, snapping the bone like a twig and tearing into the muscle with its armor. Its stench, the sight of its diseased skin continued to overpower her. Its teeth sinking into her flesh, ripping and tearing…_

_She wanted to reach up and touch the place where she had been bitten, but could not move._

_Over and over, she replayed those moments. Caught off guard, asleep while away from camp, as her custom had become over the months of travel. It had been a decision made out of malice and hatred, from a Kallian still consumed by her past and her feelings toward humans. And from that decision made so long ago, the consequences came in the form of a single darkspawn having its way with her, too far away from anyone else to be of help._

_How might things have played out if she had accepted Alistiar’s offer on their very first day together? He had volunteered to set up her tent for her right next to the fire so it would be warm all night. It had been such an earnest and genuine gesture, motivated by nothing other than a desire to put her mind off the horrors of Ostagar and their almost impossible mission. In response to him, she grabbed her sleep roll under one arm and marched two dozen paces away without saying a word._

_If she had just swallowed her pride and joined the group at any point in the recent past, none of this would have happened. She would be on her feet, probably in Denerim. Possibly even putting her dagger to Loghain’s throat in response to his treachery. But instead, she laid in a cart, half dead and staring blankly up at the sky._

_Half dead. Almost dead._

Should have died.

_The thought chilled Kallian to her weakened bones. She had to cringe as a wave of horrifying memories washed over her._

_Sinners like her were punished. No one would remember her._

_Terror clawed at her._

_No mercy._

_Nobody cared about her, in this world or the next..._

_“The stars are out.” Leliana said from somewhere near Kallian's feet, which banished the dark thoughts like a fireball blasted into the night._

_A moment later, the wagon shifted as the woman pulled herself onto it. She settled down next to Kallian in a half-sitting, half reclined position, keeping her legs extended and tucked near the mountain of blankets to ensure they both had as much room as possible. Their limbs rustled together as she found purchase on the cart’s floor. The human’s shoulder rubbed against her own as she found a comfortable spot. “I love staring up at them, you know. It comforts me to know that the stars will remain untouched by the blight - that whatever happens down here, they will shine eternally, their light undimmed.”_

_Kallian nodded. “I didn’t think of that.”_

_Leliana reached her hand up, again coming into contact with Kallian, before pointing to a small patch of the night sky. “There is a story about that cluster of stars over there. Do you know it? Alindra and her soldier?”_

_“No. Tell it to me.”_

_Leliana spent the next hour telling the tale of lost love and a sorrow that filled the sky. Her accented words drifted around Kallian, enrapturing her like a magical hypnosis. She hung onto every pause, every emphatic word, every aspect of the story as if she were a child listening to an elder recite a legend of old. She kept her gaze stuck on Leliana as she spoke, and the human spun the story without error or complaint. Every time she felt her eyes grow heavy, Kallian kept them open. Every time she yawned, she tried to hide it. She would not let sleep bring this moment to an end._

_Something about this time, this moment, made Kallian wish she could capture it forever. She felt safe as she had never been. Almost impossibly warm. And full of joy she had not experienced since well before she left the alienage. Her injuries did not matter here, and Leliana made no complaint about them or their appearance. She did not care, and so Kallian did not worry. As her body settled in for a long sleep, and another day of aching recovery, she dared to think that right here, next to Leliana, she felt at home._

_“This story is one of my favorites.” Leliana said as soon as her story ended. “A tale of a love so great and so enduring that it defies death, and moves the gods to action.” She sighed and stared upward, lost in wistful thought. “Sometimes I ask myself, does such a love exist? Can it exist?”_

_Kallian had no answer, as her battle with her body had come to an end, and sleep had conquered._

_In dreams, Kallian swore she could hear Leliana singing to her._


	11. Chapter 11

Leliana rested her chin in her palm as she listened to Kallian finish her tale. “I remember that night very well.” She reached up to stoke the elf’s hair. “And yes, I was singing. I thought it would help you sleep better.”

“I never heard about this.” Keeran also had his head resting on his hands, enamored by the new information. “I even paid ten extra sovereigns for the collector’s edition of your biography, and this wasn’t in it.”

“I have a biography?” The Warden’s head reared back and a single eyebrow raised on her forehead. “I didn’t know I had a whole biography written about me.”

“Oh yeah,” Keeran explained, “It was a huge Satinalia gift a few years ago. There was even a black market for it back home in Ostwick. Written by someone who said they followed you around for a while, but I can’t remember his name. Leaky Drywall? Lewis Droden? Leevee Something?”

“Dryden? Levi Dryden?” Kallian asked.

“Yeah, that’s it. Terrible writer. Varric’s book about Hawke was much more entertaining, I’m sorry to say.”

“Of course it is.” She sighed and leaned back in her seat.

“I remember him.” Leliana said. “He did follow us for a time, Inquisitor, but not very long. We helped him with some family business, which was also warden business at the same time. It was all very confusing from my perspective.”

“One of his great ancestors was a warden.” Kallian clarified. “She tried to lead a rebellion, she lost, you know the story.” She waved it off like a common parable that everyone knew the ending to.

“Oh, the chapter about _that_ takes up about half the book.” Keeran said. “In fact, now that I think about it, the stuff about him and his family takes up almost all of it.”

“Some people just have a problem with letting go.”

Keeran couldn’t help but laugh as different memories of people, both good and bad, he had met in his time as Inquisitor. Many of whom seemed stuck in the past. Corypheus flashed in his mind first and last. “Don’t I know it.” He calmed himself with a quick cough when he noticed the other two did not share his mirth. “So how long did it take to get back on your feet?”

Kallian cleared her throat. “When you’ve got a mage who has been practicing healing magic longer than you’ve been alive, things tend to sort themselves quickly. But there were still a few troubles.”

 

***

 

_The trip to Orzammar felt as if it took months, even if a mere three weeks passed. An endless monotony of sitting immobile, watching the sky change back and forth with nary a small change in its routine had almost driven Kallian to madness. She begged whatever forces drove the weather to produce a storm, a fog, a rainbow, hell, just a small wisp of cloud, to break up the empty blue of the daytime. And at night, she wished more than anything that she could see past the obstacles and obstructions of the cart, to get a better look at the huge open splendor of the dark skies._

_Her companions grew more haggard as well. Even when they broke down and set up a fire one night to cook a meal, instead of relying on a dwindling supply of dried meats and molding bread, she could still hear the sound of armor rustling against itself and weapons being cleaned deep into the night, long past when they should have been put down. But that one night of comfort didn’t erase the dark circles under their eyes, or the rapidly diminishing physiques of everyone’s bodies as they succumbed to the exhaustion. The darkspawn attack had shaken them all. And worse, the small chortling coughs of Zeveran and Morrigan grew ever louder and deeper the longer they marched. A constant reminder of how others in the party had been hurt as well._

_Wynne came into the cart every day, often when the sun was at its peak and threatened to blind Kallian, and used her knowledge of magic to help seal the gaping wounds and severe internal damage left behind by the darkspawn. The old mage never touched her directly, but Kallian still felt a surge of warmth as if her palms made contact with her skin every time magic applied to her still-open wounds, or into her snapped left leg. It felt as if the heat from an oddly-specific firepit concentrated itself into tiny pinpricks instead of cascading over everything at once, caressing and massaging the parts of her that had been torn asunder. And when it finished, the absence of the warmth might as well have been a dunk into an ice-cold river for how jarring it left her._

_Still, she hesitated to heal everything at once, like she would have done on the battlefield. And several of the wounds on Kallian’s side continued to ooze because of it. Every time she finished with the magic part of her sessions, Wynne would reapply a bandage to those open cuts and call it a job well done. Unfortunately, the helplessness of being tied down and sitting in a pool of her own body’s festering juices did not appeal to Kallian, and she tried more than once to sit up and get out of the cart. But either her own body’s mangled condition, or the stern warnings of her companions, kept her still._

_And then one day, Sten appeared by her side with a battered cup of steaming liquid in his hand._

_“Drink this.”_

_“What is it?” She shifted to face him. Though she remained tightly bound on the cart, her blankets had been loosened somewhat by Wynne’s constant ministrations._

_“Tea.”_

_“Not a big fan of tea, Sten.”_

_“It is medicinal tea. It will aid your healing, and help you sleep.”_

_“I can sleep just fine.” She paused. “But thanks for the thought.”_

_“You continue to squirm in your quarters, against your healer’s wishes. Also, you have nightmares.” The Qunari said, and pushed the small dented cup closer to her face. “You think only Alistair knows about them, but we can all hear you cry out while you slumber. This will help ease that suffering.”_

_“I don’t remember having any nightmares.” Despite herself, Kallian wriggled her right arm free and grasped the cup. It almost burned her hand, but she didn’t drop it. Sten had shown remarkable knowledge of plants before, much to Leliana’s delight, so she didn’t doubt the veracity of his claims. If this helped her get back on her feet…_

_“That’s good you don't remember. But you must still drink the tea.” His glare said the rest without words:_ Or I will make you drink it.

_Under his withering gaze, she did so, and sleep found her the moment she took the last sip._

_The early rays of the next morning’s light hit her face the next time Kallian awoke, though that particular sensation was not what stirred her. Instead, an agonizing pressure at her side pulled her out of whatever dreamless void she had been drifting in, and immediately set her mind ablaze with thoughts of another darkspawn attack. Had another creature come to finish what the first one started? Had another attack happened again at her most vulnerable time? Where were her friends?_

_Her heart rate increased faster and faster in her chest as she took in a sharp breath, which aggravated the discomfort further. She tried to kick her legs, but they remained restrained. She whipped her head to the side, to try and protect her tender neck, and scraped her long ear against the wooden floor of the cart. The feeling of new flesh being irritated, even because of her own decision, further stirred the rest of her body awake._

_She opened her eyes, but instead of beholding a darkspawn above her, ready to kill, she saw only Leliana. A look of mild shock covered the human’s face, but that was it._

_“Oh, good morning.” She said as she drew her hands back._

_“What are you doing?” Kallian asked as she regained control of her heart and lungs._

_“Just helping Wynne while she sleeps.”_

_Kallian blinked several times to return her vision to normal. And as she did, she saw what Leliana meant. Her torso had been uncovered from the blankets, and her shirt had been lifted up to expose the wounds. A small jar full of an astringent substance, a healing poultice of some sort, sat next to her, as well as a small bundle of clean white cloth. A few strips had already been applied to Kallian’s skin, which explained the painful sensations that woke her up. A moment later, the piercing scent of the jar smashed against her nose like a besieging army and cleared whatever dullness might have lingered in her mind, as well as cleared her sinuses._

_Upon reaching full consciousness thanks to the headshot of the herbs, a blush hit Kallian’s cheeks and washed down her entire body. First, because she hadn’t noticed how cold she felt. Second, she realized her shirt had been more than pushed up and out of the way of the wound, but the cloth had been bunched up around her chest, exposing several inches of skin she did not wish to show. She instinctively wrenched her right arm free and rose it over herself._

_“Don’t worry, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. As a bard, you often had to tend to your own wounds. Sometimes, trusting someone else to heal you could put you in a very dangerous and vulnerable position. I don’t mind doing this.”_

_“It’s not that.” Kallian’s right arm finished its journey and pulled her shirt down just enough so she felt comfortable, but still kept free of the open wounds._

_“Oh.” Leliana’s cheeks darkened, and a genuinely contrite scowl crossed her lips. “I apologize. I didn’t realize I had… exposed you like that. My focus was on redressing the poultice.”_

_“Uh huh.” Kallian grunted in disbelief and turned away. Not out of shame, but to bring the ear she had rubbed against the cart up into open air and away from the irritation._

_“I, uh, could get someone else to do this if I offended you.” The human stammered. “I could… go stretch my legs.”_

_Kallian sat in silence for a moment, and considered agreeing. She would have definitely felt more comfortable with Wynne if any human had to see her this way, but the moment had already passed and she had been re-covered without incident. Plus, Leliana did seem truthfully mortified along with her._

_“No, no. It’s okay. Keep going.” She sighed._

_“Are you sure?”_

_“Yeah. Just don’t… stare.”_

_“It’s hard not to.”_

_Kallian whipped her head back just far enough to catch the hints of a smile break through Leliana’s scowl. “What?”_

_“What?”_

_A pause turned into an uncomfortable moment. Which itself turned into a tense stare._

_Kallian pursed her lips together into a tight line._

_Then Leliana’s expression dropped into a mask of purest shock._

_“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” she gasped._

_“Yeah, you did.”_

_“I, um... I really should go and get Wynne.” The bard stammered as she turned to leave in earnest, but Kallian’s arm reached out and held her wrist just before it moved too far away._

_“No really, it’s okay.” The prone elf said. “You’re halfway done anyway.” She paused. “Besides, I don’t think Wynne would appreciate being woken up to finish a half-done redressing.”_

_“She wouldn’t… But I should… Fine.” Leliana huffed as she sat back down next to Kallian. “I truly am sorry for what I said.”_

_“Don’t worry about it. I’ve heard worse.” She said as the other woman resumed her work smothering the strips of cloth with the poultice and placing them directly onto the wounds. Every time they touched her skin, Kallian hissed and squeezed her eyes shut, but she did not make Leliana stop._

_“I’m sure you have, growing up in an alienage.”_

_“You’ve heard some of it before, you know. Remember that temple, when I hit my foot on the door?”_

_“Oh yes.” Leliana giggled. “You were quite colorful.”_

_Kallian tried to ignore the intermittent pain of the cloth touching her by drifting back into memory. “My alienage sits right next to the Drakon River, so a lot of barges float by every day. My cousins and I used to sit on the banks and listen to the humans as they brought their ships in to dock further upriver. There’s a strong current a few yards up from one of the big chantry buildings, and a lot of sailors from different cities would get caught in it.”_

_Leliana paused her ministration and looked Kallian in the eye, a knowing glint in her eye. “Go on.”_

_“You wouldn’t believe what I heard back in those days. Curses in dozens of languages. One time, an Orlesian boat tipped over right in front of us. Spilled all kinds of things into the river. Me and Shianni ran home yelling everything we heard the crew say over and over. You can imagine the looks we got from the adults as they heard us. Even got Valendrian to turn his head.”_

_Leliana replied, but in thick Orlesian, and Kallian couldn't understand it.  And yet somehow, based on the wide grin and immodest wink that followed, Kallian knew the words were exactly what had been said all those years ago. And based on those very same expressions, it seemed the phrase was quite filthy._

_“That was it.” Kallian smiled._

_“Would you like the translation?”_

_“You know what? No. I think it works better not knowing.”_

_“Suit yourself.” A moment passed in silence, while Leliana prepared a final few strips. “Okay, this one is the worst. So prepare yourself.”_

_She didn’t wait for Kallian to respond, she just put it against her skin with as gentle a touch as she could manage. But even then, it still sent a wave of nausea and lances of white hot electric agony up and down her entire body. It felt exactly as if the darkspawn’s bone-weapon had returned to finish its job of tearing her asunder. Kallian could not stop herself from letting out a brief cry. Nor could she prevent her legs from kicking their way free of their confines and wrenching against the hurt. The deep, disquieting ache in her broken left leg joined the chorus of pain in her side as she thrashed it._

_The world went white. And then black._


	12. Chapter 12

_They gave her a walking stick. A WALKING STICK._

_Upon reaching the gates of Orzammar, and the small city of merchants and outcasts that surrounded the massive dwarven construct, Kallian eagerly freed herself from the wagon. Her injuries still had a long ways to go, but magic and expert care had shortened what might have been six months of bedrest to just three weeks, and she would be damned if she had to be carried into the city._

_While Alistair and Wynne used gentle pressure on her back and legs, holding her steady as she slid off the wood, the rest of the party split off in various directions. Most of them went to the food merchants to replenish their nearly-depleted supplies, as well as recoup what they had left behind in the darkspawn attack. But two, specifically Oghren and Zevran, went straight to a seller of human knickknacks and other sundries._

_Kallian’s bare feet made rough contact with the polished stone ground, and she hissed as she felt the cold rocks sap the heat from her body. To her left and right, Alistair and Wynne held her shoulders, providing balance and support in case she needed it. One of them had her boots in their hands, but she did not wish to take the time to put them on. She had to stand up NOW._

_“Don’t try to go too fast,” Wynne chastised, “We don’t want you falling and breaking more bones.”_

_“I don’t think I could handle the ironic tragedy of you dying because you tripped over a darkspawn injury. I’m just saying.” Alistair added._

_She did as they asked, and took a few measured steps. Her side burned, her neck ached, and her leg throbbed, but she tried to ignore it as she put one foot in front of another. Her right leg, the one that had not been broken, felt fine. If a little weak. Her left, however, collapsed as soon as she put weight on it. Fortunately, the two humans at her side caught her before their warnings came true._

_“What did I just say, young lady?” Wynne hissed._

_Kallian didn’t reply, she just winced as her hands instinctively went down and covered her limb. The dull throbbing ache she had felt while lying in the cart exploded into a cacophony of ruined nerves and white-hot lances deep in her muscles, all of it combining into a storm that threatened to pull her down and prevent her from ever walking again._

_That’s when Oghren and Zevran returned. The dwarf seemed nervous being so close to his home, but otherwise in good spirits. Her fellow elf, however, looked as if he suffered from ten different colds and flus at the same time. His skin had grown very pale over the last few weeks, and covered in a sheen of sweat. His eyes had sunken into his head, and dark patches grew beneath them. And, most worrying of all, the veins on his neck and arms showed black where they should have been deep blue. And yet, despite the obvious darkspawn-induced sickness, he too seemed jovial._

_“Ah, there you are, wardens!” He said in his thick accent. “I was afraid you’d run into the city without us!”_

_“What do you want?” Kallian hissed as she rubbed her leg._

_“Well, I figured since we survived three weeks constantly on the move, with you on death’s door for much of it, we should celebrate. And there’s no better way to celebrate than drinking, which I’m sure we’ll do once we’re inside. But until then, we should do the second best type of celebration: the giving of gifts!”_

_She hadn’t realized the Antivan assassin’s arms were clasped behind his back until he revealed what he had hidden. In each hand, he held an object he clearly bought from the human merchant near the edge of the shanty-market. In his left, a long grey knitted scarf fluttered in the gentle mountain breeze. Near the edge of the garment, Kallian could see a gaudy bright green pattern of chubby mabaris chasing each other on an equally hideous green field._

_In his right, he held a thin walking stick. One end had been fastened with a polished brass handle, while the other seemed to be weighed down by a thick treesap-like material shaped into a flat cone._

_“First thing’s first.” Zevran said as he placed the stick in Oghren’s meaty hands, and unfurled the scarf. “I know the pattern is… atrocious, but it was all the merchant had.” Without asking permission, the elf reached around Kallian’s neck and lightly wrapped the scarf around her. It covered the bandage around her skin that clung like a noose, and hid the offending markings as if they were never there. “The people here, they know your face. The dwarves can be vipers if they wish to be, and they would not hesitate to capitalize on an injured warden if it suited them. Especially the warden who helped to crown their king.”_

_“I… thank you.” Kallian said as she weighed his words. “I think I can guess what the stick is for.”_

_“Actually, that was Oghren’s idea.” As soon as Zevran said the dwarf’s name, Oghren laughed his particular throaty-slash-gurgling chortle._

_“I bet Zevran two sovereigns that you’d walk like an old lady as soon as you got out of that cart. And by the stone, I put his money to good use!” The chortle turned into a guffaw that projected spittle onto Alistair’s wool shirt._

_“Besides,” the dwarf continued as soon as he had control of his laughter. “I doubt you’ll be able to swing those little knives of yours for a good while yet. At least with this, you can get the reach you need to hit something. Y’know, if you need to.”_

_“That’s actually a fair point. Never know what’ll happen these days.” Alistair said as he wiped his shirt with the edge of the long scarf. The tugging motion pulled at Kallian’s head, but she didn’t stop him._

_Wynne nodded. “And I’m sure you’d prefer to not lean on us for the entire duration of our stay, Kallian.”_

_“Thanks, Oghren.” Kallian said as she took the stick from him. The weight of it surprised her, lighter than she expected. The haft of it was also thinner than a standard greataxe handle, so it would probably only afford her one or two good swings before snapping in twain. But any weapon would be better than nothing should the need arise. She tested a few swings, to Wynne’s dismay, before setting the stick down and held the smooth metal grip in her left hand._

_Her cheeks burned as she put some weight on it. Oghren’s words of walking like an old lady echoed back and forth as she did so. The idea of being left infirm by the attack felt humiliating enough, but the reminder of old age, of approaching mortality, hurt worse. She had to mentally banish a spike of anxiety as it wormed up her backbone. There were more important things to worry about right then and there, not the distant possibility of dying in supposed friendly territory._

_Alistair and Wynne took a step back as she tested the stick, which fortunately shielded them from seeing her close her eyes and try to ignore the shame she tried to stuff deep down in her mind. One step, and her left leg complained. Another step, and she had trouble keeping her balance, but remained upright. A third, and she felt stable._

_“Hah, good on ya, Warden!” Oghren cheered loud enough to draw the attention of several dozen people around. She saw him reach for an appreciative slap on her back, but he stopped himself. “Uh, sorry.”_

_“Come, my friend.” Zevran turned to the dwarf. “We came to your city for a healer, but you’re going to show me the best place to get a drink before then. I always get nervous before a checkup.”_

_Five hours later, Kallian, Zevran, and a very grumpy Morrigan sat in the home of a dwarven healer, recommended by the king himself for her extraordinary skills. Morrigan had almost ignored the invitation, insisting she felt fine and that her own magics would heal her. “I do not wish to be poked and prodded by some crude dwarven idea of medicine!” She said as she nearly had to be dragged through the gates kicking and screaming, paint-blackened fingernails scratching against the stone. Much to the humor of Alistair, of course._

_For her part, the healer, Thura, took everything in stride. A long-time veteran of curing the wounds and ailments of darkspawn fighters, she recognized the symptoms for what they were after a mere glance at her three non-dwarf patients._

_“I’ve seen this before. Just a standard infection from a darkspawn blade. Not the blight itself, and not the kind of disease that spreads, either. Otherwise your whole group would have been dead weeks ago.” She turned from them and stroked the heavy satchel of gold she had been paid for this very brief appointment._

_“I could have told you that.” Morrigan snapped as she pulled her head up from her sunken shoulders. Anything further she might have spat became drowned by a phlegmy cough that lasted several torturous seconds._

_“Of course.” Thura said as she adjusted the spectacles that covered her eyes. “The two of you.” She pointed to the assassin and the witch. “Will need to mix a combination of deep mushroom dust and dried elfroot into a tea every morning for a week. The symptoms will clear so long as you have adequate rest. Which, by the looks of your eyes, you haven’t been getting. Fix that.”_

_The dwarf turned to Kallian. “You, you’re a Grey Warden. You’re already over it. Now get out of my house.”_

_And with that, three weeks of stress, of worsening symptoms, and hours of waiting for this appointment came to an end. The three of them stood outside the door as Thura locked it from the inside with an audible THUNK. Around them, the city of Orzammar hummed like it had for countless ages, oblivious to the scene that just occurred._

_“Well,” Morrigan sighed, “This has certainly been an unpleasant experience.”_

_Zevran joined the exhalation. “You’re telling me.”_

_“Then, if you will excuse me, I will be taking my leave of this dank hole in the ground and return to the surface. I will try to find enough dried elfroot for this charlatan’s idea of ‘tea’.” Before anyone could respond, Morrigan waved a thin hand over her body and transformed into a sickly-looking raven. She flew away just as fast, making a straight line toward the large metal gates._

_“Then I guess it will be my job to find whatever this “deep mushroom dust” is. Wish me luck, Warden.” Zevran said with a smile and a wink. He, too, left her outside the healer’s door as he tried to disappear among the crowd of dwarves milling about the residential district. Unfortunately, his much greater height showed his exact location for several hundred paces._

_Kallian stood alone for a time, leaning on the walking stick and letting her weight shift back and forth between the previously-broken left leg and her healthy right. The scarf around her neck compounded the itching and irritation from the bandage tenfold, especially in the sweltering heat of the nearby open lava pits, but she kept it in place. Zevran’s words rung truer than ever in her mind, especially when she noticed a few scattered dwarves among the crowd sneak glances toward her. How many were simply taking a glance at an obvious outsider, and how many were keeping tabs on a known political instigator?_

_At the end of their last visit to the city, several supporters of the now-dead Harrowmont had tried to ambush her in the city streets, brazenly showing their distaste for her role in their political drama. Ever since then, she viewed every dwarf in Orzammar with an air of uncertainty. Zevran said it best: The dwarves could be vipers._

_Here, alone and unprotected, without a dagger in sight, she shivered. A mental image of dwarf sneaking up behind her, and shoving a weapon into her back gave her immediate pause, and brought the return of that soul-crushing fear. She already knew she would not find peace at the Maker’s side. How much worse would it be if she died down here, so far away from familiar places, where her family would never know what happened…?_

_No, she had to ignore that. She had literally just escaped death and proved she could endure much worse wounds than a mere stab. Besides, she had a stick now. Woe to any dwarf that tried to attack her now. They’d get quite the whappin’._

_The warden turned to her left and began to limp forward, away from the crowds and toward the deeper section of the city. If her memory served, the residential district opened to a crossroads that would lead to both the large open commons, as well as the stuffy Diamond Quarter, the source of much of her frustration about this place._

_Descending stairs made her leg hurt with every movement. And curved stairs, built into natural rock formations to save space in the cramped conditions of the city, made it even worse. The pressure in her limb from the downward movement, combined with the small pivots she had to make to compensate for the curving structure, had practically set her leg aflame by the time she reached the halfway mark. The stick did fuck-all for her as far as Kallian could feel, and she contemplated dropping it into lava to distract herself from the ache._

_But first, she had to reach the bottom, which took several agonized minutes. It should have been a matter of seconds, bounding down with all her reflexes and skills, never skipping a beat and ending with a flourish that would have astounded even the most acrobatic Orlesian circus performer. But no, the darkspawn had seen fit to cripple her, and now she hobbled along like an old woman, as Oghren had found so amusing._

_Each step down the stone walkway seemed silent to Kallian, as the ruckus of underground life and industry drowned whatever noises her feet made as the slid across the steps. But her stick provided satisfying clicks as she tapped it against various surfaces. She imagined herself squashing tiny darkspawn bugs with it as the monotonous stairs wore on her eyes. A step down, squish. Another step, squash. Step and splort. She imagined tiny cries of terror and pain from the fake creatures echoing up to her ears like audible honey._

_As she reached the bottom of the curved stairs, her mind’s eye pictured a horde of crushed tiny darkspawn left bloodied and ruined just as she had been, their dark blood covering everything in sight. The thought of such ludicrous revenge satisfied something within her, so she took it even further. A step past the staircase and some of the darkspawn turned into specific humans: A bandit who tried to rob her. Those cultists back in Haven. Loghain. Vaughan. Duncan. She brought the stick down without mercy, and reveled as dark blood became deep human crimson._

_“It’s nice to see you smile.” An accented voice said just as one of the little illusions turned into Leliana. Kallian had to toss the stick to the left, almost throwing her off balance, as the tiny mental image became the real woman. The bard had appeared from some corner she didn’t see, probably watching her descend the stairs with a grin of her own._

_She remained on two feet, but the weight on her left leg flared up again, which Leliana noticed with uncanny speed. In a fluid motion not unlike what she had done to Alistair in the Brecilian ruins, the human whirled around Kallian and had her arm around the elf’s in less than a heartbeat. She took the place of the walking stick with her own body, and gave support where Kallian needed it most._

_“Careful.” The bard said with a laugh. “Alistair said he would not tolerate you tripping and falling today. He also said something about it being ironic, but I doubt he understands the meaning of the word.”_

_“Yep, that sounds like him.” Kallain said as she adjusted to the warmth and strength of the woman at her side. Much nicer than the cold shaft of wood and metal._

_And also something else. Even though the air in Orzammar clung to her nose like a wet rag, full of soot, ash and the other unpleasant stenches of civilization without an open sky to bleed into, something cut through it the longer she remained this close to Leliana. Scented soaps that spoke of mid-spring flowers. And a perfume that she had smelled only once, in the Denerim market many years ago. She turned her head, which aggravated her neck, and took an experimental sniff. Sure enough, Leliana had found the time to not only replenish the party’s food supply, but primp herself with some rather nice and expensive hygiene items._

_“Leliana, you…” Kallian looked up to see that, more than the scented soap, the human had also combed and braided her red hair in the way it had been in Lothering, before the endless marching back and forth across Ferelden. And on her cheeks, the hints of cosmetics shone against the underground city’s dim light. “You look…” she stammered._

_“Well, after weeks of traveling with almost no sleep and constant worry, I needed to take care of myself just as much as you do. I take it the visit with the healer went well?” As she spoke, Leliana pulled Kallian forward, toward the commons of Orzammar. Their locked arms prevented her from pulling away, as well as stopped her from limping like an injured warhorse. In fact, the closer she leaned, the more “normal” she could walk, so she moved as close as she could. An invisible swarm of butterflies erupted in Kallian’s stomach as she realized that not only had she locked her arms with the woman, but their fingers twined together in this intimate closeness._

_“Yeah, she said I was already over whatever sickness the darkspawn used. Zevran and Morrigan just need some rest.” She tried to sound normal, even though the roils in her gut made it very difficult._

_“Good. Very good.”_

_The commons were also the place where Orzammar’s large doors opened to the outside world, and Kallian saw them long before they reached the large flat common area. They towered over everything like a fortress, ancient carvings of paragons looking over their descendants as if they still lived. Leliana’s course took them in that direction for a time, and the two of them walked arm-in-arm at a nice brisk pace. Enough to stretch Kallian’s legs and make her heart flutter with mild exertion. Or did it flutter for another reason?_

_And then the human turned left, away from the doors._

_“Where are we going?” Kallian asked as her view, blocked by a neck that still didn’t like turning around much, shifted toward the crowded market of the commons. Hundreds, maybe thousands of dwarves filled the space, not only milling about on every open patch of stone, but inside market stalls, ancient shops, and hovering around vendor carts. In contrast to the uniform brown and grey of the stone around them all, the market almost exploded with color as dwarven merchants advertised and sold their wares with a gusto and energy the surface market could barely replicate._

_A few withering looks followed the two women as Leliana urged Kallian deeper into the market, but no one moved to stop them, and the elf saw no signs of weapons or other violence. She only saw merriment, commerce and the day-to-day life of a people unafraid of the troubles above and around them. It helped to banish the lingering few imagined threats that still floated in her head._

_“Don’t you remember the promise I made to you? I said that as soon as you finished your appointment with the healer, we would visit the market together.”_

_“Shopping? Now?”_

_“And why not now?” Leliana had to raise her voice to carry over the din of hundreds of dwarven voices. “You still need time to recover, and we are not going anywhere for a while. It’s time you let your hair down for once and stop thinking about death and darkspawn.”_

_With her free hand, Leliana reached into a pocket of her tunic and rummaged about. “Speaking of hair… do you mind if I let go of you for a moment?”_

_“No…” Kallian skeptically answered even as she found a nearby stone tablet to rest her weight against._

_Again with an infectious smile, Leliana stepped back and palmed whatever she had in her pocket. “Close your eyes, please. And no peeking.”_

_Kallian complied, even though she didn’t feel entirely comfortable doing so. As soon as the world went dark, she felt a gentle hand at the top of her head, then a second. For a time, they simply stroked her long hair, gathering the strands together with practiced ease, and not tugging except when necessary. Soon, a third unfamiliar sensation joined the human hands, something prickly but not sharp, touched her scalp and slid into place among the arranged hair. It scratched the sensitive skin atop her head, but not enough to truly hurt._

_“There.” Leliana said as she withdrew her hands. “You can open your eyes now.”_

_After a few blinks to ease the transition back to Orzammar’s low light, the first thing Kallian did was hold her left arm back out for Leliana to take. With her right, she reached up to touch the spot on her head that had been manipulated._

_As she felt her body relax back into the warm embrace of her human companion, the warden touched her head where she felt the light scratches. Her fingertips brushed against something soft, almost feather-like, but not made of cloth or anything she recognized by touch. The thing also had some weight, and the more she concentrated on it, the more she felt it tugging on her hair._

_“Don’t mess with it too much. I’m looking for a mirror so you can see.” Leliana warned. “Don’t worry, you look gorgeous.”_

_Kallian could not stop a blush as it colored her cheeks. Her hand moved from the thing in her hair to her face, so she could brush some of the long strands away from her eyes. She barely noticed how she swirled them between her fingers as she did so._

_Arm in arm, the two of them passed dozens of different merchants, losing themselves against the backdrop of civilization. Over a passage of time she dared not count, they wandered together as if she had no injuries to her body, no mission to accomplish, and no world-ending disaster waiting just outside the gates. The only thing that existed to Kallian was herself and Leliana together._

_Somehow, they found a jewelry merchant who seemed more than willing to lend the use of a mirror, provided they took a serious look at his exquisite braided gold necklaces and other amazing wares made of rare metals. A cursory glance at items far too expensive for either of them to conceivably wear, and they were granted the mirror. Leliana held it up for Kallian with her free hand, while still keeping support with the other._

_The sight of her own face did not surprise Kallian, not after a lifetime in the alienage, and the past several months in almost constant combat. Both her eyes were ringed by the deep greens and yellows of fading bruises, and seemed to contrast with very sallow skin. One of her cheeks had a deep line running across it, scabbed over by magic, but looked to be on the way to healing without a scar. Her lips were cracked and dry, but otherwise unharmed. The worst part of her physical changes were on her neck. Beneath the scarf and the tight bandage below that, a few deep bruises peeked out, still black after weeks of magical healing. Four thin lines, recent scars, covered the black. The remains of teeth that tried to rip her flesh apart._

_And yet none of that registered in her mind. Because sitting over her right ear, a beautiful white flower sat tucked into her hair. The petals, which she had gingerly touched moments earlier, almost shone with a light of their own against the dingy backdrop of the city. The yellow center reminded her of an early spring sun, almost as bright as the petals, but full of a life of its own. The white and yellow sat in stark contrast to her smooth dark hair, brightening her gloomy appearance in a surprisingly pleasant way._

_“Leliana.” Kallian breathed._

_“I… I never told you that I really like the way you wear your hair, did I? I wanted to show my appreciation.”_

_“My hair?” All her life, Kallian had never cut her hair with anything other than a sharp kitchen knife or a pair of rusty shears, and only to keep it around her shoulders. Unlike other elves, she did not spend any coin to buy any fine-smelling soaps or strange brushing tools. It just hung off her head in straight lines after she gruffly combed it at night._

_“I mean…” The bard stumbled over every word she spoke. “It’s very nice. It suits you. Simple. Very unlike what we used to wear in Orlais.”_

_Kallian continued to look at the flower that gracefully adorned her as Leliana stammered. “I used to have to spend so much time and gold on silly things like flowers, ribbons and jewels… and often for only one night before the style changed again. One year, the lady of a noble house, Elyse, tried to outshine everyone by weaving small birds into her hair. Can you imagine? This voluminous style taller than a door, full of tiny chirping birdies?”_

_The human giggled in a way that seemed both sincere, but also highly nervous. Kallian set the mirror down as Leliana began pulling again, dragging her away from the merchant._

_Although she moved with purpose, Leliana did not stop speaking. “As you can probably tell, lots of tiny frightened birds tend to have very loose bowels, as Lady Elyse found out later that evening. It did not help matters that Lady Elyse only washed her hair once a week, and she had spent the whole previous evening preparing for the event. Which meant she had six days to go before she soaked her head again. To say her stunt backfired is an…”_

_Leliana trailed on as the pair moved further away from the merchants and the hustle of the commons. Kallian found her attention split between the flower that had been placed in her hair, her companion’s rambling speech, and the increasingly empty surroundings._

_“Oh no.” The bard said as her mind seemingly caught up with her mouth. “I was trying to say something nice to you, wasn’t I? Forgive me, Kallian. My mind tends to wander. It’s just that… after what happened in the forest, almost losing you like that… it made me think. It made me realize that, under all your seriousness and pain, that there was a woman there who needed to know… she needed… Oh maker.”_

_Kallian felt the supportive grip on her arm loosen as Leliana maneuvered them into a secluded part of the commons. Not totally isolated from the activity and crowds, but bathed in heavy shadows from a massive stone pillar._

_Of course, Leliana’s last few words also dredged up the very same worry she though had been banished just moments ago. She mentally thanked the human for the reminder._

_“Look at me stumbling over words like some peasant girl. I mean to say that you are special to me. I’ve enjoyed your company for a very long time… and I need you to know… after the attack, I was so afraid for you. I never left your side unless I had no choice.” Leliana sighed. “I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a long time. And sometimes, when we spent the nights together in the wagon, I thought, I hoped, that maybe… you felt the same.”_

_“Oh.” Kallian mumbled as the pieces fell into place. “Oh.” She repeated at a softer volume._

_Kallian felt her heart flutter again, but she tried to crush it. She felt her stomach fill with butterflies until the swarm threatened to explode, but she tried to mentally kill them._

_She could not deny the things she had felt for quite some time, but she could also not deny that, above all else, Leliana was human. Humans had done every horrible thing to her people in recorded history. Humans kept elves oppressed and weak for all manner of cruel reasons, and some humans saw her kind as animals. Had she forgotten about Vaughan and what he did? Had she forgotten how weak and small Shianni had been rendered by him and his friends?_

_And yet, when had Leliana treated her badly? When had she berated, beaten or abused Kallian? When had Leliana said or done anything to show she acted or felt like any other human in Thedas?_

_Who was the one person in the group who sat by her side for almost the entirety of the grueling trek to Orzammar? Who stood by her side in battle while the others concentrated on their own fights? Who had been the only one to personally thank Kallian for her efforts in trying to put the world back together, with a kiss no less?_

_But what would Shianni say if she found out Kallian had been taken in by one of…_ them _? It would have been like spitting in the face of everything they endured, wouldn’t it? She could imagine the horrified expression on her cousin’s face as she entered the alienage, Leliana draped on her arm. Would her entire family hate her? Would they call her a traitor?_

_Kallian looked up into her companion’s eyes. So blue. And so vulnerable, pleading for an answer. Begging to the Maker for it to be the one she wanted. It would crush her heart if Kallian said ‘no’._

_But she SHOULD say no. She should remain true to her people, her family, and her tradition. Kallian had tried to defy ancient custom by disrespecting her arranged marriage, and now her betrothed was long dead. Killed in an attempt to rescue her. Killed by humans._

_But Leliana looked and smelled so nice. She had gone through so much trouble to refine her appearance. Was it for just this moment?_

_What about the others in the group? What would they think if their supposed leader revealed that she had started sleeping with one of them? Would it tear everything apart? Would it spark any fights? Any jealousy?_

_Did she care?_

_They hadn’t said anything about the weeks together in the wagon. There had been no comment on her slow recovery after almost dying._

_Almost dead, but not quite. She had to remind herself of that again. Still alive. And still standing even though her body wished to lie down again._

_Kallian’s trembling hand and reached up to the flower in her hair. When had it been picked? Based on the soft wetness of the petals, it couldn’t have been long ago. While she waited for the dwarven healer, had Leliana been outside the gates, searching a mountaintop for a single flower among endless fields of snow?_

_“Leliana, I…” Kallian began. Her finger curled around the flower, crushing one of the petals against her palm._

_No. It wasn’t right._

_And yet, it could not have been more correct._

_Alive. And she deserved it._

_She had to ignore it. This was wrong. Or was it? Her shaking heart, giddy stomach and floating mind could all go straight to-_

_“Oh sod it.”_

_Shianni would understand. And even if she didn’t, Kallian realized that in this moment, her cousin **wasn’t here**. And Kallian needed more than to sit and worry about what might happen tomorrow. Today, she lived, and she would enjoy her new chance at life with someone who made her feel… _

_Even though her leg erupted with a deep, insistent, throbbing pain, Kallian lifted herself onto her toes. Her side felt as if it were about to slide off her body, and re-open the wounds left behind, but she still lifted her arms around Leliana’s shoulders. And her neck, still sore, still covered in the deepest bruises she had ever seen, wrenched as she pulled her head back._

_None of it mattered as her lips made contact with Leliana’s._


	13. Chapter 13

_The early morning sun filtered through the walls of Leliana’s tent with dull golden rays, turning every inch of visible space into something out of a dream. Even the motes of dust that danced in the rays had a lazy, ethereal quality to them. It seemed as if they begged her to stay, to remain in this tiny slice of paradise forever. Unfortunately, Kallian had intended to sneak out several hours before dawn and go back to her usual spot outside of the small circle of tents. Not to hurt Leliana, but to prevent any gossip about what might have transpired between them. She didn’t fear the entire party falling apart due to gossip and salacious rumor, of course. But she did worry about their overall effectiveness if they began to worry about preserving the relationship on top of the world-saving mission they were embarked on. Good-intentioned mistakes could end terribly for them all._

_Unfortunately, the subtler she tried to stir, the more she realized her body still wasn’t ready to go back to its old agile ways. Bending her left leg and trying to shimmy it out from under the blanket Kallian shared with Leliana only caused her thigh muscles to cramp, which crawled along the rest of the limb in agonizing spasms. She had to bite her lip and crush her eyes shut as the pain dulled on its own._

_As soon as she felt comfortable moving it, Kallian slipped her bare left leg out from under the heavy cloth and gazed at the limb. Her entire thigh, from her knee all the way up, still remained swollen, blue and purple, and with hints of green and yellow at the edges. The last remains of the darkspawn attack and the magic used to repair it. Wynne probably could have fixed it in an instant. But ever since Kallian started walking again, her magical appointments had all but ceased. She needed to use the walking stick less every day, and it spent more and more time forgotten, rolled up in her sleeping bag._

_After her leg slunk free, the elf moved the blanket away from her almost-naked torso. She no longer needed to be swaddled in huge amounts of poultice-soaked cloth, but her stomach and ribs were still tightly wrapped in a long linen bandage that constricted almost like a corset. It made breathing difficult sometimes, but not impossible to adjust to. Besides, her important bits were still free and clear as they soaked up the morning light, totally exposed. That was all that really mattered._

_She hadn’t realized her upper arms were also covered in cuts and bruises from the darkspawn holding her down until somewhat recently. Like her leg, all of the internal damage had been long-since healed, and these surface discolorations were on their way to disappearing. Still, her biceps ached whenever her arms moved too much._

_As for her neck, the choker-like bandage still remained. A few nights after she started walking again, Leliana and Wynne told her in plain terms that the darkspawn had almost torn her throat completely open, exposing her windpipe and other vital organs to the air with its infected jaws. Pure luck dictated that it only grabbed skin, some muscle and a few blood vessels. If the creature had bitten in literally any other direction, she would have been dead on that forest floor._

_While she no longer needed magic to finish healing her neck, Kallian still took sips of a pain-numbing tea every evening, brewed by Sten. It helped a great deal, especially when she tried to turn her head too much or too fast, and paid for the mistake. Or when she slept on someone else’s pillows and had not gotten accustomed to how thick they were._

_While she had her side of the blanket up and in the air, Kallian snuck a peek at the body that lay next to hers. As a human, Leliana was physically larger than her, and also more muscular, compared to the elf’s thin and lithe form. Where the warden’s arms and legs were almost like twigs sticking out of a thin tree trunk, the bard had grand branches that were perfection incarnate, strong and yet delicate. Pure yet powerful. The rest of her body followed similar direction. Curved where Kallian was flat. Muscle and softness where the elf had bones and sharp angles._

_Kallian craned her sore neck to peer at the human’s chest as it lazily drifted up and down with the rhythm of deep slumber. Like her limbs, Leliana’s breasts were also bigger than Kallian’s, but she didn’t mind. Nor did she think she had the brain power to make an artful comparison to that part of her anatomy. Not while she could see them like this. Part of her wanted to reach out and revisit what had happened the night before, but she stopped herself. She was rapidly running out of time to sneak out and return to her sleeping bag._

_“I suppose it’s only fair you get to sneak a look at me after I accidentally saw you. I don’t mind.” Leliana said with a heavy breath._

_Kallian jumped back, almost far enough to bump into the side of the tent, but stopped herself. “I, uh… I mean… how long have you been awake?” She dropped the blanket as she did so, and covered herself again._

_The human giggled at whisper-volume and turned around to face Kallian. She deliberately let her half of the blanket fall away from her shoulders and hips as she did so, bringing literally everything into the light. The elf had to instinctively glance toward the tent’s closed entrance, just to make sure it remained tied and sealed, before looking back at the sight before her._

_“Long enough.”_

_Kallian let out a nervous laugh as she got a much better view of a sun-drenched Leliana. “That-that’s good. We should all… be getting ready... Now.” Her nerves did not come from the fact that a whole lot of exposed skin now stood in front of her, but from the sounds that echoed through the small tent. All around them, the other members of the party had started to stir, yawning and throwing off their sleep rituals in a half-dozen different way. She had reached her self-imposed deadline._

_“Why the rush?” Leliana scooted closer to the elf and raised her hand, pushing their bodies together in a way that sent electric tingles through Kallian’s sore muscles. The unbridled heat of the human’s body mixed with her own, once again banishing the cold of the morning air. She could feel the silk softness of her companion’s skin everywhere, especially as their chests came into contact. She could not muster the willpower to stop one of the human’s knees as it slid between her own, entwining them further together. The way the human slid her leg up made it impossible to concentrate on the dull ache from her bruised left thigh._

_Leliana’s palm moved up and covered her left cheek with an exceedingly comforting embrace. “I think we both could use a little more rest after what we did last night.”_

_“I just… um…” As Kallian spoke, Leliana’s hand moved from her cheek and up her head, combing through her pillow-tousled hair. A second later, and she felt warm, almost hot, fingertips brushing against her left ear. The sensation surprised her almost as much as the other events of this short morning, and she had to fight the urge to jump again. The touch didn’t thrill her like the sensation of Leliana’s body rubbing against hers did, but it had an excitement entirely new._

_Never before had she let a human get this close to her. And she had certainly never let a human touch her ear like this. She couldn’t even recall letting another elf do this to her, there had never been a point to it._

_“It may be hard to believe, but I have never been with an elf before you, Kallian. I’ve worked with elves, and called a great many others my friend, but I never got the chance to be with them like I am with you now.” The light brushes against Kallian’s ear became more insistent, but not forceful. She just felt more heat and pressure against her uniquely elven feature. The bard traced up and down, from the scalp all the way up to the pointed tip, then back the other way. “Forgive me, but I’ve always wanted to do this.”_

_“It-it’s okay.” The elf whisperd._

_Whenever she finished a circuit, she giggled. “Your ear twitches whenever I do that.”_

_“It does not!” Kallian gasped. “I don’t feel anything.”_

_“It’s true, I can see it happening.”_

_Though the hand-on-ear contact did nothing for Kallian, it made her lover smile, which was reason enough to allow it to continue. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sensation, losing herself in the moment. She could hear the soft scrapes of skin against skin. She could feel the tiny ridges of Leliana’s fingertips as they rubbed up and down. She could also smell the amazing mix of sweat and perfume that emanated from the human’s arm as it moved so close to her nose._

_In a way, this felt more intimate than any other kinds of touching that they could possibly share. How far she had come, to allow a human this much access to a feature that often earned her people scorn and mockery. And she trusted this human to not wrench or abuse the ear in ignorance or malice. The Kallian that might have been disgusted by this contact died long ago, even before the darkspawn crippled her. Now she felt in control of herself and her feelings, and she enjoyed this._

_With her eyes closed and her mind concentrating on the side of her head, Kallian did not notice Leliana sliding ever closer. Not until she felt the human’s gentle breath flit over her lips. And by then, it was too late. Leliana kissed her again. A light brush at first, but deepening every moment. The tickling touch became a warm overwhelming sensation as the human’s larger and fuller lips embraced her own. The knee between her legs subtly moved upward, rubbing against her in a way that caused Kallian to let out a small involuntary moan. The human took that opportunity to allow her tongue access to Kallain’s mouth._

_"Warden, get out of that tent.” Sten said with his usual monotone accent from outside the tied entrance. “It’s time to continue your training.”_

_Kallian’s large elven eyes shot open and she felt all the blood in her head instantly drain away. Her lips dropped into a horrified scowl as Leliana pulled backward and covered herself. The sudden rush of cold air as their bodies separated killed any iota of electric tingling that had set her body alight._

_She silently mouthed to Leliana “How does he know?” before shrugging free of the blanket and reaching for her clothes. Everything the two of them wore the night before had been bunched up around their feet, mixed into a pile of garments that were impossible to distinguish aside from their size. Kallian bent forward, ignoring the few dull aches from her bandaged midsection, and reached for the disorganized mass of clothing._

_“Warden?” Sten asked as he moved closer to the tent. His massive shadow passed through the cloth of the shelter, eliminating much of the golden light, but increasing the dread that flowed through Kallian’s veins like ice water._

_“I’ll, uh, be right out, Sten. I just need to… get prepared.”_

_Sten grunted before speaking. “Prepare quickly.”_

_Kallian flung parts of the clothing pile around the tent, trying to separate her clothes from Leliana’s as fast as she could. With Sten’s shadow over her, she yanked smallclothes up her legs, and then grabbed a pair of elf-size trousers. It wasn’t until the leather garments were at her knees that she realized the smallclothes sat too big on her hips and they bunched together in odd places. Leliana noticed it at well, but did not stop the hurried dressing. If anything, she just sat and smiled at the display._

_With no time to spare, Kallian tied the trousers up and tucked the undergarment into them as best she could. She then threw on a shirt she hoped fit her, and yanked it down over herself. Leliana in the meantime gingerly wrapped her fingers around the other shirt and slid it over her chest, just to cover her modesty. She buried her legs back under the blanket instead of fully dressing._

_After taking one last glance behind her, Kallian burst from the tent and tied it shut. The inside of the small shelter had been cool but pleasant, kept heated by their combined bodies. The outside air chilled the elf to her bones, biting into the skin on her hands and face. It hadn’t snowed in the night, but the overcast Ferelden sky sat heavy and dark, ready to unleash at any moment._

_Sten loomed like a statue, even more still and ominous than Shale. As usual, the Qunari wore no armor, just a pair of thick trousers and heavy boots, but he showed no discomfort in the low temperatures, nor did his abundant muscles twitch with the slightest hint of a shiver. His huge hands rested on his hips as he stared down at her._

_“H-Hi, Sten.” Kallian stammered as she looked up and hurt her neck._

_He did not say a word in reply. Instead, he held out his left hand to reveal a thin switch of wood, a branch of willow from the looks of it, and tossed it to the cold ground before her. Kallian bent down with a small grunt and retrieved it. The switch sat heavier in her hands than the walking stick, and was a good deal longer. It sat strangely in her hand after holding the other device for so long. She took a practice swing with it, and marveled at the noises it made as it sliced through the cold air. A smile came to her lips as she imagined what kind of damage she could cause with it, if she could manage to strike with all her strength. After spending all that time with the flimsy bit of wood, this could really do some damage._

_That was when Sten killed her._

_A quick jab with a switch of his own, which he held in his other hand. The wood made contact with a part of her right arm that remained bruised, and she yelped in surprise and pain._

_“What was that for!?”_

_“Had this not been a training exercise, you would be dead. Now defend yourself!”_

_Sten immediately twirled around in an extremely choreographed and slow arc, which made the air around his wooden weapon sing. His long arms extended as he prepared to make a wide cut. A ridiculously apparent opening, and the closest thing he would call a “warm up”._

_Kallian raised her own weapon to block, but found her hands did not have the strength to shove the other “blade” aside. It slid past her defense with ease, allowing Sten to send his weapon into the exact same tender spot on her arm. Her muscles grumbled and ached, but she didn’t dare show weakness to Sten. Instead, she hissed and let her breath escape from clenched teeth. The vapor from her exhalation swirled around her head like dark magic._

_“Dead.” He said._

_Kallian growled her own displeased noise, which matched Sten’s in everything but pitch. If that was how he wanted to play today, she would oblige. The elf crouched low and bent her knees, even though her left leg complained the whole time. She circled the Qunari with three slow paces, taking deliberate steps to make as little noise as possible. For his part, Sten remained guarded and wary, holding his stick up in a classic defensive stance. She smiled as she saw the opening, and then took it._

_She darted forward, still low, and shoved her switch forward, intent on stabbing him directly between his legs with a lightning-quick jab. A move she had practiced a thousand times, and used on more humans and darkspawn than she could count. It always worked. Fortunately, she tempered the strike just enough so it would hurt, but not cause permanent damage._

_She, however, did not see her opponent’s switch change direction just as quickly as she did. She got within half a pace of Sten’s vulnerable spot before his wooden stick swatted her upper back. The sharp noise echoed through the crisp air and roused the campsite further._

_“Slow. And dead.”_

_“Sten, what are you doing?” Kallian asked as she stood up. She did not drop her stick, but she also didn’t raise it again._

_“I told you, this is training.”_

_“But right now?”_

_“Will the darkspawn wait for your invitation to attack again? Did you learn nothing from almost dying?”_

_Kallian might have felt angry before, but that had been competitive, almost friendly anger. The kind you pulled up to beat someone at their own game, and then immediately turn into laughter. Sten’s words cut into her heart, and she scowled. Had she been armed with real weapons, she would have brandished them and demanded an apology. Instead, she kept her meager stick lame against the ground and had to mentally force the old fears and anxieties away._

_“I think you’re just angry you caught me and Leliana sharing a tent.” She sassed back, desperate to deflect and converse, rather than fight and be humiliated._

_“I don’t care where you sleep, warden. However, I do care about training your body so you can rejoin the fight.”_

_“Wait…” Before Kallian could speak again, Sten raised his stick and thrust forward, jabbing her square in the chest, between her breasts and above her sore ribs._

_“Dead.”_

_“Stop this!” She said as the Qunari's stick whirled around to mock a decapitation. Fortunately, Sten stopped before tapping against her bandaged neck._

_“No.”_

_Whatever shame or embarrassment that might have lingered in Kallian’s mind burned away as she stared at the impassive Sten. He clearly had no consideration for her boundaries, and he certainly would not stop, no matter how loud she protested._

_However, as usual, he said more without speaking. The way his eyes glinted as he stared down at her said volumes. The gaze was as cold and biting as the air outside, yes, but hiding just a hint of true affection and warmth that only someone who had endured dozens of battles together could recognize. He wanted to help her, and his words about another surprise attack here true, no matter how painful. He didn’t want her to die any more than Kallian wished to pass. And this was his way to make sure it did not happen any time soon._

_If she wanted this to stop, she would have to beat him._

_For the next week, as the world grew colder and the first hints of snow hit Ferelden soil, Kallian kept her willow switch at the ready, tucked into a belt or just in her hand. The party never increased their pace faster than a brisk walk, still recovering from their march. Morrigan also scouted south as various types of birds, to confirm that the falling temperatures had somewhat slowed the darkspawn advance. The farms of the Bannorn, central Ferelden, were still in grave danger, but they now had a chance to escape the coming tide._

_Sten used this time to attack at random parts of the day, sometimes multiple times, sometimes just once. He would not say a word, he would just approach as Kallian helped prepare some meat, folded a tent or a thousand other menial tasks, and attack. The fight would be joined without comment or interference from anyone else at camp, as they knew the purpose of this exercise. At first, she was no challenge to him no matter what she tried, and he made it clear every time she failed. No, every time she “died”. Fortunately, his words only stirred her anger further, which made her want to win more. She had to show him that she still had the strength, skill and speed to be a threat on the battlefield, even if he said he would never believe it again. As the days passed, she began to make him work for his kills, even though she never came close to winning._

_At night, Kallian would retire to Leliana’s tent, and the human would apply healing herbs to her most sore areas, and also administer the painkilling tea that Sten brewed. It didn’t take long for her to stop blushing every time she paused outside of the tent, and she noticed how few glances or stern looks she got from everyone when they saw her. Part of her mind still worried about future conflict, but that part didn’t have a very loud voice anymore. Her body and mind were usually too tired from Sten’s training, or worrying about his next session, to pay it much heed._

_Sten changed up his tactics now and then, going between his practiced and brutal Qunari-trained strikes, to the more wild and savage styles of the darkspawn. It kept Kallian on her toes, but it also made her frustrated about being unable to defend herself against every attack he threw at her. Sometimes, he would also push harder than normal, and beat her with brutal attacks that left her sore in mind and body. On those days, she let slip some very nasty words at him, and made her anger clear in ways other than through her weapon. Often, Sten would find his food burned, or his water skin half-empty. Petty revenge, and it ultimately did nothing._

_One day, he turned to her and said. “Save that anger for the darkspawn. It does nothing to me.”_

_For some reason, those words cut into Kallian like never before. She had no reason to feel so outwardly mad at him for those two sentences, but her mind stewed on them, refusing to let go. Perhaps it was because of her frustrations at being unable to beat him, or the feeling of uselessness in her complete inability to get under his skin. Sten was no darkspawn, he had slain just as many of them as she. They fought differently, they thought differently. They were easy to kill, at least compared to a highly trained Qunari soldier. Why did she need to know how to defeat him? She only needed to know which end of her daggers to hold and she could cut through scores of evil creatures. She did NOT need this. She could probably convince the group to intervene on her behalf, and convince him to stop. Or at least fight her using only darkspawn tactics. She came closest to winning when he did that. But then, she realized, he was_ really _good at saying ‘no’._

_The more she thought, the more she fumed. And the more she fumed, the deeper her rage got. On the afternoon of the day Sten last spoke to her, she felt her head shaking with barely-restrained rage, and her hands hardly able to control themselves as she held onto her well-beaten willow switch. She hit it against her right leg with increasing force, as if punishing herself before Sten could try again. Whap! Not good enough._

_Whap! Not fast enough._

_Whap! Dead._

_Whap! Dead._

_Whap! Dead._

_Whap! And then SNAP!_

_Kallian looked down to see her switch of wood had broken into two pieces, severed by the violent and moody swings against her own body. She reached down to grab both halves from the ground as a pinprick of cold touched the back of her hand. As she raised the two smaller sticks, she felt more and more freezing touches against her arms, neck and cheeks._

_And then she realized what she had been missing._

_Snow had come sporadically in the last week, but it never lingered. The storm that brewed above Kallian as she marched toward Sten seemed to be intent on sticking around, dumping its cargo of frozen rain on the countryside. Her footsteps made small crunching noises as she passed over half-frozen grass and dead leaves, a sound she knew he could hear. She also knew he saw her coming from the periphery of his vision as he set up some wood for the night’s coming fire._

_Holding one short willow stick in her left hand, the other in her right, Kallian made obvious moves that any experienced fighter would notice. She made her course and intent perfectly clear, and even shushed other members of the party who saw her plan. Oghren smiled and winked. Zevran bowed. Alistair rolled his eyes._

_And then she disappeared._

_Not totally, and not in a way that fooled anyone who watched her do it, but she knew she had vanished from Sten’s senses when he subtly pulled his head up and looked around, away from the under-construction bonfire pit. She had only shifted her position to fit the Qunari’s blind spot, a place behind his head that he could not see by turning his head or shifting his eyes. He would have had to turn his entire body around, which he did not. A horned Qunari would have been hampered even further, and given her a much greater angle to work with._

_After spending a tense moment in perfect stillness, Kallian shifted her method of walking to make no noise against the cold ground, a technique taught by the rough streets of Denerim, when she needed to walk through the poorest slums without drawing attention to herself. Her extremely light elven frame helped this along, as she barely crunched anything as she made light footfalls._

_She approached like a lioness stalking her prey, keeping low and constantly zig-zagging left and right to remain free of Sten’s senses. She had even waited until after he finished cutting the bonfire’s logs so his nose would be stuffed with dust and sweat, making it more difficult for him to use all five senses on the battlefield. The battlefield of her choice this time, not his._

_She approached until she could see the muscles of his back twitch as he warily awaited the attack. She saw his neck flex as he swung his head around, trying to compensate for his blind spot, but never going fast enough to match her silent feet. She moved forward until she could see the faded remains of the war paint he applied to himself before going into battle, now almost gone since it had been so long since their last real fight._

_She flipped both sticks in her hands, pointing them upward._

_One more step._

_The lioness pounced!_

_Her left hand went low, jabbing the smooth side of the half-stick into Sten’s stomach, pretending to slice it open. Her right hand went up, around his neck, and repeated the motion in the opposite direction._

_“Dead.” She said to him._

_Sten never attacked her unprovoked again, but she did request to spar with him now and then. Mostly when she got tired of Zevran’s never changing his routine. Both with his blades and with the way he ran his mouth about her and Leliana. Not that he said horrible, lecherous things (Okay, he did, but not to hurt her. Just to celebrate her happiness.), but he never varied his “trash talking” as he liked to call it. He always tried to get to her in the same ways, and it never worked. Sten proved he could destroy her with two sentences._

_As evening settled on the final day of their trip, and the heavy columns of smoke that foretold of Denerim’s presence wafted over the horizon, Kallian retired to Leliana’s…_ her _tent. The bard had already entered, her camp chores finished hours before, and she was excited to share another evening together. But where Kallian expected to see a nice sight, like the woman smiling, or maybe a pot of tea ready to share, she saw something else._

_Leliana sat cross-legged on top of her unrolled bed, one hand wiping tears from her eyes with desperate force, while the other held her flame-red hair back and out of her face, almost tugging it out of her scalp._

_“What’s going on?” Kallian asked as she jumped into the tent and sat in front of Leliana. The elf reached her hands out to comfort her lover, but she pulled back. “Leliana?”_

_“I’m sorry, Kallian. I truly am. I thought I had more time.” The bard did not look up, nor did she stop her display._

_“What? You’re starting to scare me.”_

_“I’ve been lying to you, Kallian.”_


	14. Chapter 14

The Hero of Ferelden paused and looked into the Inquisitor’s incredulous eyes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, _your worship_ ,” Kallian drew out the title with a long sarcastic inflection, “Whatever was in that ale just passed right through me, and I need to go take care of some business.”

“What!?” Keeran exclaimed. “You can’t just end it there! Leliana, tell her she can’t end it right there!”

After sparing a moment to leave a kiss on Leliana’s cheek, the warden stood up and made her way down the rookery’s stairs. Her voice echoed for several long seconds afterward as she complained about the lack of proper facilities in this part of the castle, and the long walk she had to endure to get relief, at great length.

The Inquisitor sputtered and croaked a pitiful sound as he held out a pleading hand, but his protests came to nothing.

Both Keeran and Leliana watched her leave, as well as paid attention to her shadow as it receded from the back wall. Night had fully covered the outside world, and a chill wafted through the castle. In response, the castle’s servants and soldiers had lit all the open hearths and heavy candles they could find. The extra light helped bring a certain relaxing gloom to the building, which included long heavy shadows and a deep amber color that washed over everything.

The exact second Kallian’s bouncing shadow disappeared from view, the spymaster turned to the Inquisitor. In that moment, all traces of the sweet chantry sister he had come to know over the past few hours, full of songs and smiles, crumbled away to reveal the face of the nightingale. The same terrifying presence he first met in Haven, when she had been reeling from the death of Divine Justinia, unfurled like a magic spell. Keeran swore the fires inside the castle flickered and almost died as she turned.

“You are aware that some of the things you’ve heard tonight are not to be repeated, yes?” She asked without a hint of emotion.

“Of course, Leliana.” Keeran said as he leaned back. He had to remind himself that this woman was not a threat, no matter how much his body wanted to panic. “I would never…”

She cut him off. “Not to Dorian, not to anyone, do you understand? Kallian is taking a great risk speaking of such personal matters to you, Inquisitor. If that trust is breached, even unknowingly, it will have consequences.”

“What is this about?”

Leliana lunged forward, still emotionless, eyes unblinking, and grabbed the Inquisitor’s hand. His left hand, the one with the mark. Her slender fingers crushed against his and pushed into the tissue, causing him to hiss. He tried to not wince, but failed.

“Kallian made many choices when she fought the blight, choices she might not have made given other circumstances. She made enemies, and it marked her in ways she has yet to understand. The things she did… what _we_ did… could destabilize the entire continent if word spread. Everything you have worked for will crumble to ash if you repeat what you’ve heard at this table.” She paused, and a momentary fleck of an emotion passed through her eyes. Regret? “She has already omitted several things, and I hope she fails to mention several more. For her sake, and yours.”

Keeran yanked his hand away from Leliana’s with as much strength as he felt willing to muster, lest he pull her over the table and create a very embarrassing display for the both of them. Fortunately, she sensed his motion and let him go. He spent several long seconds rubbing his left hand with his right, and flexed the crushed digits.

“I don’t know what’s come over you, but I swear this conversation will remain between us.”

“It must, for the good of Thedas.”

Keeran sighed. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t confused. I very much am. But you have my word as the Inquisitor, and as your friend.”

“Good.” The nightingale smiled, but not a trace of mirth followed the expression. It was as much a mask as an Orlesian noblewoman’s evening wear. “I believe you, Keeran Trevelyan.”

And then it withered away. Leliana’s scary face returned to normal, if a bit tired from the late evening and whatever the hell came over her. She slumped back in her seat and finished the last few drops in her mug before snapping a gloved finger. The same agent who had served them before walked out of the heavy shadows and nodded before disappearing once again.

“Has he been here the whole time?” Keeran asked as he blinked, turned around several times, and then pointed in the general direction he saw the young man disappear to.

“Phillipe is new, and has proven himself quite valuable to the Inquisition. I trust him.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. He is… unable to communicate the same way we do.”

“What, is he mute?”

“In a sense.” She waved a pair of fingers in front of her lips to finish her thought.

It took a moment for Keeran to comprehend what she meant. But as it dawned on him, the Inquisitor felt his tongue suddenly feel very heavy in his mouth, and he let some of it slide past his lips. He gingerly touched the soft flesh just to make sure it remained where it was supposed to be. Leliana stared, but made no further comment on the matter.

The two of them remained in awkward silence for several minutes after. The mountain winds outside Skyhold tried to carry a mournful tune, but the time of year was all wrong for them. The air only managed a few flaccid notes before dissipating against the walls. Some of the slumbering birds made brief dream-calls from the cages, but did not stir.

“So…” Keeran said to break the quiet. “Care to continue the story while we wait?”

“Not particularly.” Leliana said as she pushed her shoulders against the back of her chair. For a time, she glanced between him, a candle and the stairs behind her, filling the void with nothing but the soft sounds of her clothes shifting and her chair creaking. Fortunately, even the bard’s patience wore thin as the wait for Kallian lengthened. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“Fine, I’ll tell you _some_ things. I don’t know if you remember a talk we had in Haven, about Divine Justinia.”

Keeran vaguely recalled such a conversation, but he didn’t dare ask for a clarification and risk the return of the frightening mask. “Yes.”

“I said she saved me, but I didn’t say what she saved me from.” For another brief second, that look of regret washed over Leliana’s face. Perhaps from the memory of Justinia passing, or maybe something older, but Keeran saw it as plain as a midday sun. “When we reached Denerim, my past had caught up to me. And I had to make a choice whether or not to tell Kallian and the others about who I had been, and what had ultimately brought me to them.”

“Justinia made you help stop the blight?”

“No, no. Before that, before she was even Justinia, back when I knew her as Mother Dorothea, she… helped me see the truth of someone I thought I knew. Someone I thought I loved.”

“And this someone was in Denerim? Is that why you were… apprehensive?” He chose his words carefully. He didn’t want to bring up the image of his spymaster cowering in dread if he could avoid it.

“Yes. This person was relentless, and would not give up pursuit of me no matter where I went, or who I befriended. It was in that moment of weakness that Kallian found me, because I was afraid for her and all of my friends.”

“I find it hard to believe you were so afraid of one person.”

She looked up at him with heavy lidded brows. “You have no idea what some people in this world are capable of, Inquisitor. And if I continue to do my job, you never will.”  

Before Leliana could speak again, a pointy-eared shadow began making its way up the rookery steps, and distracted them both. Keeran spared a moment to glance in the direction of the dimly-lit area before turning back, and once again came face-to-face with the return of the cold, emotionless mask.

“Remember, Trevelyan, not a word to anyone.”

And as soon as Kallian appeared once again from the staircase, the coldness dropped and the smiling sister returned, as if nothing had changed whatsoever. Leliana greeted her elf with open arms and a laugh as Kallian bounded up the last few steps and jogged toward the table.

“So,” the warden said as she looked between her two companions. “What did I miss?”

“Oh, nothing.” Keeran said as he glanced nervously to the spymaster. “I tried to get Leliana to tell the story in your absence, but she refused.”

“What can I say? She tells it better.”

Kallian sat down. “That’s a lie.”

“It’s true.” Leliana shot back. “I enjoy it very much when you tell stories.”

“Well…” Kallian said as she nestled back into her seat. “Where did I leave off, again?”

Leliana chimed in first. “Just outside of Denerim.” Her voice lowered and she glanced toward her lover with a pained expression. “Marjolaine.”

“Oh. Are you sure you want me to…?”

“Yes. He wanted to know everything.”

 

***

_If Kallian could have stood up and paced back and forth while inside Leliana’s tent, she would have. Instead, she had to remain sitting, legs crossed and arms wrapped over her chest._

_She listened to Leliana speak every detail about her life as a bard, how she had fallen into the service of someone named Marjolaine, and perhaps fallen a bit deeper than that. Only to have all of her trust betrayed and hurt in a way that still obviously affected the red haired woman a great deal. Leliana explained the real reasons why she lived in Lothering, and perhaps some of the true reasons for joining Kallian in her mad quest to save the world._

_Part of Kallian wanted to ask how much more of Leliana, the supposed chantry sister and holder of eternal cheer, was a lie. As the human sobbed and broke before her, some of the cracks could be seen as clear as day. There was a coldness buried deep in Leliana, and the way she described some of the events in her past brought it out in a way that frightened the elf. And yet, a lot of that horror could be blamed directly on Marjolaine and the way she manipulated and eventually ruined Leliana._

_“I understand if this… harms your opinion of me.” Leliana said as she took in a breath and tried to stop the flood in her eyes._

_Somewhere deep down, Kallian absolutely felt hurt. Part of her cried out that Leliana could no longer be fully trusted, not after this revelation. Bards were known to lie all the time, after all. Even if the lies were meant to protect others, they still hid things, and often had horrible consequences. Kallian had placed so much of her trust in the human, burying decades of anger and hatred just to have a chance at being happy in a world gone mad with darkness. She could not shake the feeling that her trust had gone unappreciated and spoiled. Just another game in this human’s world of intrigue and plots. Perhaps Leliana’s affection had been a ruse all along, just an opportunity to finally feel what it was like to be with an elf, before dumping Kallian in Denerim and rejoining her true comrades among the bards._

_And yet, like so many other times before, Kallian felt herself ignoring her instincts when it came to this woman._

_“How do you know she’s in Denerim?” The warden asked._

_Instead of saying anything more, Leliana reached behind her, into a leather satchel, and produced a folded parchment. She placed it in front of Kallian’s legs and buried her head in her arms, fighting a new wave of sorrow._

_The writing on the note hurt Kallian’s eyes. The script had been penned by someone who seemed to want to make their words look good more than try to convey information. The heavy swoops and curves of each letter smeared into each other and almost bled through the page for their thick ink. On top of it, the words felt as if they were written by someone unfamiliar with the common tongue, and had trouble making coherent sentences in the language._

_What she could gather from the mess on the page was a set of instructions to attack a “caravan”, and to bring back the head of the priority target: a young human woman with red hair, most likely speaking Orlesian rather than common. The second half of the instructions gave clear directions to a building in Denerim where payment would be dispensed upon successful delivery._

_She put the parchment down before it gave her a headache._

_“When did you get this?” Despite her attempt to ignore how her body responded to the revelations she had just heard, Kallian could not stop a pinprick of white-hot rage from forming in her stomach. It roiled like a soup pot forgotten over a campfire, threatening to consume her. Humans had lied to her for so many years, this felt no different._

_Leliana looked back up at Kallian, eyes wet and puffed from her display of emotion. “A few days before reaching Orzammar, while you slept thanks to Sten’s tea, we were attacked by a group of bandits and thieves. We assumed them to be desperate refugees trying to survive these dark times, but they were more than that. They were organized, well equipped and seemed to know exactly who we were. Alistair assumed it to be another assassination attempt from Loghain and suggested we search the bodies. I found that note in the pocket of one of the fallen.”_

_“Did you tell anyone?”_

_Leliana took in a breath. “No.”_

_“Were you_ ever _going to talk about this?” The tiny pinprick became a bubble. Lies on top of lies now!_

_“I… I should have. But I was so relieved to see you on your feet when we reached the dwarves, and we were so far away from Denerim that I put it out of my mind. I thought I had more time, I thought maybe I could have prepared myself for this confrontation long ago. But now we’re here and I cannot stop worrying. I’m afraid.”_

_“Then there’s only one way to fix this.” Kallian said as she checked the sheathed daggers at her belt and turned toward the entrance of the tent. The bubble of anger had filled her stomach now. Lies, manipulations, old flames. If Leliana were afraid to end it, she would._

_“Wait!” Leliana’s hand reached for the elf’s shoulder and restrained her, just like she had done in the circle tower all those months before._

_“What?” Kallian snapped back hard enough to bring agony to her bandaged neck. Her black hair swirled around her face and nearly covered her eyes as it settled. The rage moved into her lungs, turning her breathing into short, heavy huffs._

_“Please, don’t…”_

_“Don’t what? Don’t put an end to this? Don’t try to fix a problem that you’re clearly incapable of solving yourself?” Her body spoke before she could handle the words, and the venom came from her like a hissing spider. She honestly did not know if she was more angry at Leliana for lying, or at Marjolaine for what she had done to this woman. The mere thought of reuniting with her had turned the normally kind and compassionate-to-a-fault bard into a sobbing mess. And who knew what monsters lurked in her head, left behind by a woman she thought she loved._

_“You don’t know Marjolaine! You don’t know what she’s capable of.”_

_“And she doesn’t know me.”_

_That night, Kallian slept under the stars, and not in the tent. Her blood boiled too hot and her mind raced too fast for her to rest anywhere but under the cold Ferelden sky._

_***_

_Kallian awoke before dawn, adorned her full set of blue and silver armor, and marched toward Denerim. To her surprise, Leliana did the same, and the two of them locked eyes as the human stepped out of her tent. Like the warden, she had also slid into her battle gear, and by the way her bow gleamed in the moonlight, it seemed she hadn’t slept at all. They didn’t argue about who should have this confrontation, they instead shared a wordless agreement as they walked away from camp. They slid into the city away from the main gate, as Marjolaine would have had people watching it, but by climbing over one of the side walls. Kallian had extensive experience sneaking into and out of the city without humans seeing her, after all._

_After that, they found the house with little problem, one of the many hundreds of manors that ringed the city’s large open market, still quiet in the early morning. Each of the stately windows had been sealed with tar and wax poured on top of their locks, both on the inside and out. On the other hand, the front door remained not only unlocked, but slightly open. Both of them suspected a trap, but Kallian did not have the patience to try and disarm it. She kicked the heavy wooden port inward, ready for any sort of violence to erupt._

_That’s when Marjolaine appeared from the sitting room next to the entrance. The dark-haired human wore a sleeping gown made of reflective silk, but her face showed no fatigue. Instead, she smiled when she saw Leliana approach behind Kallian._

_“Ah, there you are!” Marjolaine said in horribly accented common before reverting to Orlesian. Her demeanor remained all smiles and generosity as she spoke, but the way Leliana trembled under the unfamiliar words showed their true intent._

_“And who is this, Leliana? Why have you not introduced us? That is rude and unbecoming of you.” The other bard said in common, but she did not turn to face Kallian. “Is this pretty little elf your new toy? You always had excellent taste in… what is the word you use in this dog-fucking language, Leliana? Est-elle ta putain?”_

_“She is not.” Leliana fired back as she reached behind her back for an arrow. “You will not speak of her like that!”_

_“Such a shame.” Marjolaine continued to smile. “I’m sure whoever owns the elf could make a lot of gold like that.”_

_“Stop talking!” In the blink of an eye, Leliana had an arrow nocked, drawn, and pointed it at the other woman even though she stood a bare few paces away. Kallian spared a glance to her side to see a new batch of tears flowing from the bard’s eyes._

_“And why should I?” Marjolaine switched back to Orlesian and spoke phrases that were clearly meant to hurt Leliana. And although the exact meanings were lost on Kallian, she could guess what they meant. Every time she finished a sentence, Leliana reeled as if she had been punched in the stomach. Now and then, Leliana whispered “non” after Marjolaine paused to take a breath. Her head sank lower and lower under the verbal assault._

_After a final withering barrage of words, Leliana faltered. “Vous gagnez.” She whispered as she lowered her bow, relaxed the string, and let go of the arrow. Marjolaine’s smile did not falter as she took a step forward. Then another. And a third. When Kallian tried to pull one of her daggers from her belt, Leliana held out a hand and touched her wrist, then flitted down to her belt. The motion stopped the warden cold. A pleading look in her broken eyes begged Kallian not resume._

_The other human glanced toward Kallian with an expression of satisfaction as she reached up a hand to stroke Leliana’s cheek. With one of her thumbs, she wiped some of the tears that covered her face. A moment later, and her other hand stroked Leliana’s red hair and pushed some of it behind her ear._

_“See? Is it not much nicer to be civil, even in this stinking place? Put your weapon on the ground, sweet girl.”_

_Leliana did as commanded, and her bow hit the wooden floor of the house with a sharp clatter._

_“That goes for you as well, elf.” Marjolaine did not look at Kallian, instead content to look into the eyes of the other human and hold her close._

_“No.” The anger that had been sparked in the tent, and tempered over the long night, had roared into open fury. The mere few words she understood from the woman had been enough to set her off. But the image of seeing her touch Leliana in such a vulnerable way had turned a bonfire into a twisting inferno. And now the human tried to command her like a servant?_

_Blood pounded in her ears, and her heart thudded against her ribs. Visions of Vaughan’s estate became as real in her mind as the place she stood in. As did the memories of her anger, and her hatred. She could no longer control herself, and she no longer wished to._

_“What did you say?” Marjolaine asked as she finally turned to face the warden._

_“I said no.” And even though Leliana tried to stop her again, Kallian reached down and wrapped her fingers around…_

_Nothing._

_Instead, Marjolaine’s eyes went wide and her mouth slowly opened as she tried to speak, but could only leak a trickle of blood. Leliana remained stiff as a statue, but her hands were raised near her chest as if in prayer. Clutched in her tight gloved grip, the hilt of Kallian’s dagger poked out from her palms, and the blade had been pushed into the other woman’s body, just above the heart. Her expensive night dress became drenched with crimson as she fought to remain standing._

_“Leliana…?” Marjolaine gasped as her body crumpled to the floor. The knife wound, open and exposed, continued to coat the floor with crimson as the woman died at her feet. Leliana remained upright, clutching the weapon with a look of profound sorrow etched on her face._

_Kallain froze in the sudden stillness, unsure if she needed to move closer or away from the scene. Her rage still pounded in her chest, but fizzled by the lack of action. Fortunately, she did not let it die completely._

_“Behind you!” Leliana said as she bent her waist and ducked under an expertly-aimed arrow. It hit the wall beside her with a loud THUNK, showering the two of them with dust and wood splinters._

_Marjolaine’s trap sprung as she perished. From out of the doors, and even from the unlocked main entrance, mercenaries and thugs of many kinds appeared. All of them armored, and all of them ready to kill._

_Kallian jumped into the fight with a grin on her face, one that showed her teeth. She did not feel mirth, but instead a kind of glorious relief as she released everything that had been building for the last several hours. Even with just one dagger, she dove forward and plunged the blade into the vulnerable arm joint of the first mercenary’s armor. He howled and dropped his weapon. Behind her, Leliana bent backward to avoid a wide swing from a massive sword. Then she twisted her body around in a blink so she could rear back and smash her boot into the man’s jawbone with a high kick. Bone and helmet broke with a sickening crunch and he staggered back. In that moment of confusion, she stabbed him through the stomach plates._

_Not to be outdone, Kallian pushed herself forward and let out a shrill cry that burned her throat. She leapt into the air and bounced off the thick wall nearest her, landing on top of the next closest enemy. With her lighter weight and superior agility, she balanced herself on the mercenary’s shoulder and bent her knees. The man’s large helmet pushed up between her legs as she did so, and she grabbed it for support before bringing her dagger down and slicing his exposed neck open. She rode him down like a bucking horse and rolled forward. A third armored thug tried to step over her as she hit the floor, but it was too late. Still feeling the momentum of the fall, Kallian lashed out into the back of the man’s left knee, cutting into the vulnerable joint and forcing him to crash onto the body of his dying comrade. She ended his life with another throat cut._

_Leliana finished her final target with her entire body. She, too, jumped forward, but used her heavier weight to shove the man back and into one of the sealed windows. The glass shattered around him and fell into his eyes. As the man tried to steady himself and clear his vision, Leliana punched his large nose, breaking it. Not a second later, she plunged the dagger into his mouth and pulled upward._

_The room went silent, save for the heavy breathing of the two women._

_Leliana moved first, stepping over the bodies and the blood with practiced, agile feet. She placed her bloody dagger in Kallian’s hand._

_“I need to get out of this place.” She said with a voice almost devoid of emotion before walking out of the open front door._

_***_

_Kallian returned to the camp alone just as the sun hit midday. Alistair, Wynne and Sten seemed to be waiting for her, scowling and full of worry. The others also added their displeasure at her disappearing, but without the preaching and scowls. She apologized to them and went to her still-open sleeping roll to pack it up and prepare to enter Denerim with the whole group._

_Somewhere along the line, about the time Kallian finished rolling the last of the dried meats into a sack to be placed in the wagon, or the vehicle Shale had renamed “my unending source of torment”, Leliana returned. Kallian did not drop her responsibilities, but instead waited until she knew the food would be secure before going to the woman’s tent. Leliana did not enter it, nor did she begin the process of breaking it down and stowing it away. She just stood in front of the shelter, her right arm bent and rubbing her left shoulder. The others in the camp gave her wide berth, showing greater displeasure at her than Kallian for being gone for much longer._

_The elf approached slowly and with much caution. As their companions finished preparation to leave, Leliana remained static._

_“Are you okay?” Kallian asked as she stood next to Leliana and joined her in staring at the tent._

_“It’s… it’s nothing. I’m fine. I’m just thinking.” The human said as she shook free of a deep reverie._

_“About Marjolaine?”_

_“I can’t get it out of my head. After all that time, she was still there, watching me. Waiting for me to come to her. And when I failed to do that, she thought I had plotted to kill her.”_

_Leliana sighed and relaxed her stance. She turned to face Kallian. “She never trusted me, and she never loved me. I thought she did, I truly believed it. But it was just another way for her to control me and use me however she pleased.”_

_“But now she can’t anymore.”_

_Leliana sighed. “It hurts, Kallian. To know that I never really knew her until the end. The things she said back there, about you and about me. They cut into my heart and I don’t know if I’ll ever stop hurting.”_

_Kallian nudged closer and made sure her arm came into contact with Leliana’s. That part of her that had been angry about the lies felt a moment of exhilaration, and wished to rub that knowledge in the human’s face._ So she **did** understand how it felt to be lied to by someone she cared about! _But Kallian stopped listening to that part of herself._

_“What if she was right? What if I am still the killer she knew and… raised? What if I am just a savage, hateful cruel person, just like her?”_

_The elf had no words, so she reached her hand to make gentle contact with the human’s larger palm._

_“That’s not the Leliana I know.” Kallian confessed._

_“Maybe you don’t know me, either. In Lothering, I had become a different person. I felt safe, and I became a safe person. I forgot my life as a bard while I was in the cloister. But out here, with you, and now with her gone… I remember it.”_

_Leliana pulled her hand from Kallian. “It's already happening. When I pushed your dagger through her chest, I enjoyed it. Seeing her die in front of me gave me such satisfaction. I should not have felt that way, but I cannot deny how good it felt.”_

_“But the things she did to you. All of those injustices and worse. Don’t you think she deserved it?”_

_Leliana took a step further away. “But don’t you see? I enjoyed her death! I rejoiced over it! That is what she would have done, and it’s who I feel I am becoming. The things we do out here are often so violent, and I find myself enjoying them more and more. It invigorates me in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. I’m afraid of what I am becoming.”_

_Not to be denied, Kallian stepped forward, and looked the bard in the eye. “You’re not slipping away, Leliana. And you’re not becoming anything.”_

_“Then what’s happening to me?”_

_It took a long time for Kallian to come up with the right words. Again, she fought with herself over what to do. Again, she felt the urge to walk away and leave the human to her sorrow. They were close to the alienage now, and her family needed her. But on the other hand, Kallian could not abandon everything she had built with Leliana. Their time officially together had been brief, but they had been friends long before that, supporting and helping each other through the good and bad. Even if this was the end for them, and Leliana began a new chapter of her life away from what she had known, Kallian needed to still be there._

_“You’re free.”_


	15. Chapter 15

_Kallian walked alone through the front gates of Denerim for the first time in her life._

_Every previous instance she walked through this specific part of the city, she had always been escorted in one way or another. Duncan shepherded her out most recently. A few years before that, her father and Shianni had taken a brief excursion out to the woods so they could spend an afternoon relaxing before going back to the cramped darkness of their home. And there had been a time when she ALMOST ran away with a boy her age, just on the cusp of becoming a woman, to escape the looming reality of arranged marriages. Unfortunately, that frantic escape only got her to the stables before the boy’s family turned up and forced him to take Kallian home._

_The city during the day was a different animal entirely than at night. Where her excursion with Leliana had for the most part been quiet, muffled and sedate, as if Denerim itself slept along with its citizens, the daytime market breathed with noise, color and movement as thousands of people milled about and lived their lives. Unlike the semi-controlled chaos of Orzammar’s market, the humans lived in perpetual disarray. Most of the merchants stood behind mobile carts, moving along with the largest crowds to ensure the most exposure. Other large stalls had been erected under sun-bleached tents and drapes and sold things like exotic animals that added to the noise and smells of the place. The cages of the trapped animals-for-sale rattled as their occupants panicked._

_Smells of different foods wafted this way and that, carried by open currents of winter wind instead of combining into a smoky haze like it did with the dwarves. Spices from a hundred different regions became a pungent aroma that spoke to Kallian in just one word: home. They alone pulled her deeper into the city._

_There were no laws against elves walking by themselves into the human city, but there may as well have been. The mixture of stares she got from humans as she passed by invigorated and terrified her. Shems of all types, from the lowest beggars to the most opulent merchants, gawked at an elf in full Grey Warden regalia, her two weapons hanging freely from her belt. Some looked open-mouthed at the display, others had their faces turn crimson. Now and then, she saw humans run to the guards and point in her direction, as if begging them to do something about the visibly armed elf that walked among them. Fortunately, no one dared to block her way._

_The rest of the party had moved into the city without Kallian and Leliana, still harboring mild anger over the unexplained absence. She didn’t mind it. Especially if they assumed the two of them had run off to have a private tryst, rather than confront a potentially disastrous wrinkle from Leliana’s past. How would they have reacted if they all knew the pair jumped into an open trap meant to kill their bard?_

_Still reeling over the magnitude of what she had done, and what it would mean for her future, Leliana had gone alone to the cathedral deep inside the city. She needed to console herself in a place of faith and serenity, and speak to people who represented those two things, qualities that Kallian could not provide. She promised to attend the meeting Eamon had called, however, to discuss their plans of bringing Loghain down and uniting the rest of the country against the blight._

_But that meeting was hours away, and Kallian found herself with a powerful urge to go back home._

_With years of experience behind her, the elf darted through Denerim’s crowds and residential areas without slowing her pace whatsoever. She ducked around corners, sprinted through slender alleys, and shifted around masses of people without losing her step, even while wearing several layers of thick leather, cloth and some polished metal plates. She grinned as her feet splashed through a puddle of liquid she knew wasn’t water, then ran faster to avoid the backsplash. More people than before stared at the armed elf, but she did not care._

_Past a small section of the city cordoned off for leather-making and other unsavory practices, downwind from the market, she saw the gates of the alienage. Closed, like they often were, but still inviting to eyes that had not seen them in months. She had many unpleasant memories of those gates, true. Especially of the feelings they evoked of being trapped and imprisoned behind them. But the nostalgia, and the thoughts of what lurked behind that slab of wood and metal, overrode it all._

_For a moment, she no longer wore her armor and neck showed no scars or bandages. She instead wore the shirt her mother had made for her tenth birthday, and she frolicked home barefoot after her father surprised her with a human-made candy bought from the very market she had passed moments ago. She couldn’t wait to tell Shianni and Soris all the details of her birthday surprises and see what else her family had in store. The image lasted for less time than it took her heart to beat, but the memories stirred enough inside Kallian to bring a single tear to her eyes._

_A city guard, wearing full plate scarred by heavy use and wielding a long spear, blocked her path. As she got closer, she could see dents in the armor that had been hastily hammered back into place, and a ripped tabard that looked hours away from falling off. Whatever action he had seen, it must have been barbaric and recent. She had never seen someone with such shitty armor ever before._

_“Alienage is closed.” He said behind his helmet’s closed face-place, which made his voice ring and echo as if it came from far away. His body shifted to push the spear out to his side, creating a new barrier of metal and wood in front of the closed gate._

_“What? But I live here!” She said back with a great deal of force. No shems would dare keep her out of her home!_

_“Orders of the arl. In the interests of city security, the gate is to remain closed until further notice.” He said the lines as if they had been drilled into his head. No emotions or inflections carried off his tongue. How many times had he been forced to say it?_

_Of course, Kallian barely heard anything past the word “arl”. Immediate memories of Vaughan struck her like a baton blow. She growled and shook her entire body to dissipate the emotions that stirred within. She couldn’t afford starting an incident here, not now. Not when they were so close to stopping Loghain. So many pieces were falling into place to end his rule and bring justice to-_

_“Now move along, you knife-eared bitch.” The guard said, this time with a great deal of anger behind his words._

_Fuck Loghain._

_“And are you going to stop me?” Kallian hissed as she raised one of her daggers from its sheath._

_“I’ve killed more than my share of elves in recent months. Your fancy armor ain’t gonna save you.” The guard widened his stance and readied his spear. Too bad he didn’t seem to realize she stood far too close to his body for the weapon to be of use. Her daggers, on the other hand, were already on their way toward the vulnerable joints between his dented armored plates. “You’ll just be another notch in my belt and a pay raise after I put down another riotous elf.”_

_“Oh, we’ll see about that.” She said as she bared her teeth._

_She jammed her chest forward, intent on bumping onto him and causing the guard to overreact. If he wanted to see a troublesome elf, he would get what he wished. She felt the haft of the spear crash into her stomach, trying to push her back. Her daggers were so close…_

_“There you are!” Alistair shouted from a short distance behind her, somewhere among the city’s crowds. “Hey Kallian!”_

_“Better go see what your master wants, knife-ear.” The guard said with a chuckle. “I’m done with you.”_

_Kallian almost tripped the man as he returned to his post, and only refrained because she missed her opportunity while she turned to face her fellow warden._

_The human approached her with as much speed as he could muster while bogged down in Denerim’s large crowds. Like Kallian, he had his full kit of plate armor and warden heraldry strapped onto his body, ready to make an appearance in Eamon’s estate. But he did not use his superior protection to bully his way to his destination, and he certainly didn’t have the elf’s practiced agility in avoiding everything in his way. The closer he got, the more she heard him mutter apologies and other polite epithets to the people he almost trampled over._

_By the time he neared the gate, Alistair heaved with pained breaths and had to catch himself by bending forward and grasping his knees._

_“Been looking all over for you.” The former Templar wheezed. “I need you to come with me. Urgent business.”_

_“Now?” she hissed at him through clenched teeth._

_“Yeah,” Alistair said as he collected himself and stood up from his crouched position. “I need your help with something. Urgent… urgent...” Alistair lost himself to a long, painful breath as his lungs caught up with the rest of him._

_“Urgent business, yeah. I heard you.”_

_Kalian looked back to the gate guard and pointed between her eyes and his, a symbol that she would be watching him from now on. He made no obvious signs that he saw her, but all the heavy armor, plus the closed helm, made it difficult to tell in the first place._

_Alistair pushed his hands behind his back, stretching and twisting himself as best he could to ease the last pangs of exertion he felt in his rush to find Kallian. “Come on, I really need to show you something.”_

_It physically hurt Kallian to turn away from the alienage gate. A deep wallowing pit in her stomach opened up as she walked, and it did not ease. But on Alistair’s request, she continued to put one foot in front of the other and continued moving. They pushed back through the crowds together, this time at a deliberate pace. The elf noticed how the human seemed to measure his paces, taking small and short ones, as if he were literally dragging his feet._

_“What’s so important, Alistair?”_

_“Well…” he dragged the word out just like he shuffled his feet. “I hope you know that if I could find literally anyone else, I would have asked them to come with me. Well, probably not Morrigan. But you get what I mean.”_

_“I really don’t.”_

_The two of them walked through many of the same alleys and poor sections of the city Kallian passed before. For a time, it felt like they were going right back to the city gates. But after several minutes of wading through the city, punctuated by Alistair rubbing the back of his neck as if he had a reason to incessantly itch it, he turned away from the gate and moved toward a small section of poor houses. The kind of ramshackle buildings that sat off the market, but advertised services and goods of their own. In this case, the house he led her to had a symbol of a cloth or blanket shining under a bright circular sun._

_“Do we need to do your laundry?” Kallian asked as she saw the wooden advertisement._

_“No. Well, yes, but Eamon’s people are taking care of that. I need to talk to the person inside of the house.” His voice lowered in pitch with every syllable until he almost growled the last word._

_“And why do you need me?”_

_“I kind of… need emotional support. And no, it’s not what you think. I’m not here to propose marriage, or confess undying love or anything like that. It’s just…” He paused and took a deep breath. “Remember back in Redcliffe, when I told you about who my real father was?”_

_“King Maric.” She repeated, and then did a quick curtsey like she had done when she first learned of his heritage. “My prince.” She sarcastically whispered after she finished._

_“Yeah, I hoped you’d forgotten about that curtsey thing. That’s never gonna get old. Anyway, I’ve been doing some digging through the books we borrowed from Eamon’s study and… Kallian, I have a sister. Well, a half-sister.” The last words he spoke brought a twinkle to Alistair’s eye, and a wide grin to his lips._

_Kallian felt her mouth hang open as she listened to him speak. For all the frustrating and annoying qualities of Alistair, like his stubborn nobility, the fact that circumstance and the cruelty of the world left him so utterly alone broke her heart. Fortunately for everyone, his solitude seemed to fuel his resolve to accomplish the mission and return the Grey Wardens to a position of glory and heroism, rather than let them fade away._

_“Alistiar that’s… big news.”_

_“I know right? Turns out my heroic and kingly father couldn’t quite keep things under control… downstairs, if you catch my meaning. According to the journals I’ve been reading, the woman who lives here is the daughter of the king by way of a servant he bedded as a prince. She’s about my age and probably has no idea I exist. But as far as I can tell, she’s my only living family.”_

_“Well, what are you waiting for?” Kallian asked as she gestured toward the door._

_“Hold on, hold on. I just… how do I look?” Alistair held out his arms and presented his armored self as if he expected an honest criticism of his appearance._

_“You look fine. Now let’s…”_

_“What about my teeth? Do I have anything stuck in them? How’s my hair?”_

_“Alistair, you’re stalling.”_

_“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be? I mean, it’s not like I’m literally standing outside the door of the only family I have left in this world or anything.”_

_Before he could babble further, Kallian put a hand behind Alistair’s back and urged him forward. As he slid on the dusty ground, he pleaded. “You’ll come in with me, won’t you?”_

_“If you want me to.”_

_“Yeah, that was the whole reason I brought you.”_

_She waited for the human to open the door to the other human’s home. It would not have been right for her to barge in first and startle whoever lived inside. Unfortunately, Alistair grabbed the latch with excruciating sloth and pulled it open as if his muscles were afflicted by some kind of slowing magic._

_“Hello?” Alistair asked as he poked his head into the house. “Goldanna? Are you here?”_

_Silence greeted him, which Alistair seemed to take as a rejection. After the shortest second in the world, he turned back to Kallian. “Well she’s not home, I guess we can go.”_

_“What? Who’s out there?” A woman’s voice called out from a back room inside the house. Alistair’s face turned redder than a beet as he heard it. Kallian had to urge him to lean back in._

_“Can I come in?” He called to the source of the voice._

_“Get inside, you’re bringing the cold in!” The woman shouted with a harsh edge as she moved away from whatever kept her occupied, then walked to meet the strangers at her door. Alistair and Kallian slid inside and shut the door behind them as she requested, then stood in an awkward shoulder-to-shoulder pose inside. Well, shoulder-to-upper arm, considering how much taller Alistair stood above her._

_The house reeked of boiled cabbage and astringent cleaning fumes, the combined scents of a home life and an occupation taking up the same space. Kallian had to resist the urge to wince and groan at the unpleasant assault on her nose. She could not prevent her eyes from watering, however._

_Aside from the awful smell, the human house still looked to be in better shape than many of the buildings she grew up in, and had ample space for several people to live and sleep in. The wood and plaster of the home did not seem to be rotting off, and looked to be well-maintained. A large hearth kept the large open room warm, and a black kettle bubbled on top of it. On the sparse wooden floor, several bright-painted children’s toys sat scattered about. In the back, a large half-wall covered even more space inside the building, concealing the woman’s washing business._

_“G-Goldanna?” Alistair managed to stammer through his nervous tremors._

_“Yeah, whaddaya want? You have linens to wash? I charge three bits on the bundle, you won’t find better-” Goldanna appeared from the dividing wall. A plain woman, even by the standards of humans. Her features were round and unremarkable, as if someone took a clay model of a generic shemlen and did not add any distinguishing marks whatsoever. Her yellow hair sat lumpy on her head, half of it tied back into a crude bun, the other hanging wherever it pleased, shaken loose after hours of hard labor. Below her plain face, she wore a brown, featureless dress that looked to have been patched and sewn back together several times._

_“I-I’m not here to have any wash done, no.” Alistair interrupted. “I’m… well this is going to sound strange, but I’m sort of your brother.”_

_Goldanna puffed an undignified burst of air from her lips, which sent some of her straw-colored hair flying from her face. “My what? What are you talking about?”_

_“Look, I’ve been doing some research and, your mother, she worked as a servant at Redcliffe castle, right? A long time ago before she died, I mean.”_

_“What about my_   _mother?” Goldanna pulled her head back, which made her weak chin, totally unlike Alistair’s, recede almost into her neck. “What the hell… wait.” Her head popped back into position. Her eyes lit up as much as they could for someone with such sunken features. “Oh, they told me you was dead! They said the babe was dead along with mother, but I could tell they was lying!”_

_“What? Who said I was dead?”_

_“Them’s at the castle. I said the babe was the king’s, I did. And they gave me a whole sovereign to shut my mouth.”_

_Alistair slumped, which caused his armor to jangle and slide into an awkward position. He seemed to want to kick some of the toys that sat near him, but he didn’t. Kallian turned to face him. “This… wasn’t in that book you were reading?” She asked with as much delicate air as she could muster._

_“No, no it wasn’t. It didn’t say anything about lying to anyone.”_

_“Maybe one of them is confused. Maybe she isn’t-”_

_“Who’s this?” Goldanna took her turn to interrupt, which caused Kallian to momentarily close her eyes and grit her teeth. “You hire some elf to make you feel better or somethin’? That what little sons of kings get to do?”_

_Kallian took a threatening step foreward. She may have restrained herself against a highly trained assassin from Leliana’s past, but she would not take such things from a lowly wash woman. She didn’t go for daggers, she had no intention of killing the woman who clearly had children somewhere nearby. But she did prepare a full-strength fist to the shem’s face._

_Alistair held his arm out to block her passage. “I’m sorry, Goldanna. I truly didn’t know. But the important thing is that I’m here now, and I want to be part of your family.”_

_Goldanna crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at the sight of Alistair holding an elf back. “And what good does that do me, hm? I don’t know you, boy. Your royal bastard-making father forced himself onto my mother and took her away from me! And now look at me, I got five mouths to feed on barely enough coin to survive. So unless you’re here to help with THAT, then I got no use for you.”_

_“You’ve got some nerve talking to your brother like that.” Kallian growled behind Alistair’s still-outstretched arm._

_“Ain’t no brother of mine.” Goldanna scoffed. “Never knew him before, don’t know him now.”_

_Alistair sighed. “I’m starting to wonder why I even came here.”_

_“So am I.” his half-sister added. “Dunno what you expected to find, but it ain’t here. Now get out of my house!”_

_“I agree. Let’s go.” Alistair said with a hardness to his voice that hadn’t been there a moment ago._

_Stepping from the relative warmth of the hearth and into Denerim’s winter bit into Kallian’s skin and made her muscles tense. She instinctively wrapped her arms around herself until she grew accustomed to the temperature again._

_Unfortunately, Alistair stood like a stone, unmoving and unblinking as Goldanna slammed her door shut behind him. He, too, looked to be shaking, but not from the cold._

_“Alistair?” She asked as she walked to see his face. He tried to turn away as she moved, but could not hide the streaks of moisture that fell down his cheeks._

_“That was… not what I expected.” He managed to croak out as whatever strength he summoned while inside the house finally failed him. Kallian saw him sniffle and pull back against a sob. “This is the family I’ve been wondering about all my life? Is that shrew really all I have left?”_

_“Maybe she’s wrong, Alistair. She certainly didn’t know the whole truth.” Kallian said._

_Alistair looked her in the eye, his morose expression and flowing tears apparent for the entire world to see. “I guess I was hoping she’d accept me without question, you know? Isn’t that what family is supposed to do? You’ve talked about your family once or twice. They always seemed so perfect when you said how your father would greet you every day, or the times you spent with your cousins. I just… I just thought maybe I could feel a little bit of that before this all ended.”_

_Before they all died, he meant. Though they had succeeded in many places, the spectre of death still hung over the wardens. Alistair especially. Kallian could see in his distant eyes that he had begun to walk a path of despair that few people ever returned from. It reminded her of the expression Leliana gave her while still inside Marjolaine’s place._

_She had failed then, and allowed the woman to walk into darkness._

_Unwilling to stand in silence like she had done with Leliana, Kallian took two looks to check her left and right. Nobody but the two of them stood in the small dirty alley between houses. Goldanna’s wooden sign swayed in the chill wind, providing the only other motion her eyes could see._

_Though the motion strained some of the muscles in her back, Kallian reached up and wrapped Alistair in a hug. Her elven hands barely reached around his armored torso, and her face squashed against the metal on his chest, creating an obvious smudge, but she managed to do it. And although she couldn’t see his face while crushed like this, she could tell his demeanor had changed back to his normal, awkward and now confused self._

_“I, uh, okay.” He stammered. “This is new. From you, I mean.”_

_“Don’t read too much into this.” She said with a voice that sounded small and reedy, thanks to her cheeks crushing against her lips._

_“I don’t think I had any plans to do something like that.”_

_“This is just a friendly hug.” She told him from her strange position. The way his armor pushed against her nose made it apparent that her gesture had broken through some of his shell, and got him to laugh._

_“Of course.”_


	16. Chapter 16

_Arl Eamon’s estate made Kallian’s skin crawl. All of the large noble houses and villas in the city looked the same to her: giant monuments of shem opulence, rising above the common houses with spires made of cold grey stone and gardens larger than the alienage itself, populated by nothing but green plants. She did not know much history, but she could recall being told that many of these noble houses were built around the same time by the same people, which explained a lot of similarities between them. It’s why this house reminded her so much of Vaughan and the arl of Denerim’s home. Similar cuts of stone with identical grey patterns on the walls and floors, the same statues of Andraste, even many of the same decorations that screamed “Ferelden” to any foreign visitor. Dog carvings, dog statues, tapestries of great fox hunts using hundreds of dogs, all the same. Grey, green and brown everywhere, the colors of home, but also of HIS home._

_It even smelled the same, Maker help her. The sharpness of polished stone and metal, mixed with the acidic aroma of whatever kept the wooden dog statues shiny and polished, on top of distant heavy odors of cooking fires and grand ovens constantly producing meat and bread for the rich shems to eat. And all around, the chatter of servants as they cooked, cleaned and did a thousand menial tasks rang in her ears._

_In her mind, Kallian chanted to herself that this was not Vaughan’s home. It wasn’t_. _She had not gone backward in time and returned to those terrible days. She just needed to feel the weight of her armor and weapons against her skin to remind herself that she no longer wore a flimsy torn dress covered in drying blood. Her daggers were her own, not a stolen set of knives from a guard’s belt. And most importantly, she had friends here. She was not sneaking through hallways alone, listening to Shianni cry out whenever a human slapped her. Or did worse things._

_And of course, that last thought reminded her that she had been locked away from Shianni, prevented from reuniting with her cousin and confirming that she was okay after all this time. Perhaps that biting sorrow was what made her mind so consumed with the horrific wave of nostalgia. Kallian’s heart sank as she imagined hundreds of different awful scenarios that resulted from this separation. Shianni driven mad. Shianni consumed by grief. Shianni unable to live anymore and putting a weapon to her own heart, all because Kallian had not returned to defend her, like she promised she would._

No. No, she’s fine. She had to be.

_To her side, Alistair walked on shaky legs of his own, taking in the sighs of the estate with wide eyes. In fact, they almost matched hers in sheer size from the way he gawked. No small feat for a human._

_“I haven’t been here in a long time.” He said more to the walls than her. “They changed so many things.”_

_Even though Alistair looked silly, sillier than usual anyway, with this unblinking stare and awkward inattentive walking, Kallian appreciated it. The sour mood his supposed half-sister left on him had been pushed away as he got swept by his own wave of memories. The mere expression on his face showed how pleasant a homecoming this was for him, so she did not speak the dark thoughts that burned in her mind. She clung to his joy like a drowning person would hang onto a boat as it passed by, and let it pull her up._

_“Don’t go listing everything you see that’s different.” She teased. “We have a meeting to attend.”_

_“Yes, right. You’re right. Let’s do this.” Alistair nodded and forced the expression of wonder from his face at great effort. He tried to instead look determined, gruff and ready for anything, with his lips pursed thin, his eyebrows drawn low and his eyes half-lidded. The sight caused Kallian to let out an involuntary giggle._

_“What?” he asked as the expression faded._

_“You looked like you were having trouble on the privy.” She said between twittering laughter._

_“And you somehow know what I look like when I’m doing that?”_

_“Well, I am a sneaky roguish-type elf.” She said with a lilt in her voice. The levity of the moment helped her breathe, and she felt glad to share it with someone she had shared so much with. He kept her grounded in the present._

_“And here I thought Morrigan held the monopoly on creepy and inappropriate remarks. Congratulations on joining her ranks.”_

_Kallian paused as she realized what she had just implied. “Yeah, that was pretty gross, wasn’t it?”_

_“You don’t say.”_

_Before she could apologize, or perhaps make the situation more uncomfortable, the two wardens passed through an archway and beheld a large open room. Compared to the cramped halls they had traversed, this room’s ceiling reached fifty feet into the sky, up to a peak where a large metal bell hung still and silent. Huge windows made of colored glass on each expansive wall let the sunlight inside, and then scattered it into a chaotic rainbow. Near the mirror-polished floor, a massive set of double doors, painted red as blood, sat closed and locked._

_“Ah, there you are!” Eamon said with a strength and power to his voice that echoed for several seconds in the huge stone room. The last time they had seen each other, Eamon stood up from his sick bed and announced his plans to come to Denerim, where this current meeting would take place. The arl’s skin had been pale and covered in sweat, with a wild unkempt beard, and a thick sleeping robe that sat flush against a thin frail body. Even though Andraste’s ashes woke him from his magical sleep, he needed time to recover his health._

_But now, the Arl of Redcliffe looked very much like a human noble. Styled hair and trimmed beard, both grey with age, on top of a healthy body adorned with thick clothes dyed heavy blue. His eyes beamed as he watched Alistair walk up to him, and then clasp hands together. They shook their heads in some mutual understanding that Kallian didn’t understand. She wrote it off as a shemlen thing. “I was just about to send a search party for you two.” Eamon said as he broke the handshake._

_“Well, you know how it is.” Alistair said with a cocky grin. “Grey Warden business tends to eat up your free time.”_

_“I-I’m sure it does.” Eamon stammered for a moment before he composed himself and returned to a dignified pose._

_“So this meeting?” Kallian asked as she walked up to the two humans. The top her head barely peeked over their shoulders, so she had trouble making her presence known._

_“Yes, of course.” The noble said as he waved his hand to a servant. “Summon the others.”_

_Most of the other party members arrived less than a minute later, exiting from a side room that, from Kallian’s limited perspective, seemed full of books and large shelves to hold them. Wynne and Zevran first, then Morrigan slithered out with a wary expression locked on her eyes. Sten ducked through the door, and guided a very drunk Oghren after him. Shale plodded from another room, the golem’s heavy footsteps echoing loud enough to drown out most any other sounds until she came to a halt next to the others._

_Leliana did not appear. Kallian strained her bandaged neck trying to spot which corner or door the bard hid behind, but she saw nothing. Several agonizing seconds passed before the elf turned her gaze back to Eamon._

_“I guess this is everyone.” He sighed after making the same realization. “We cannot wait any longer. Loghain has been in this city for months, cementing his support and eliminating all voices that spoke against him. But we still have a chance. By calling the landsmeet, I have struck the first blow. He cannot move against all the lords and ladies of Ferelden so openly, so his only option will be to show himself, and oppose ME directly. In this, the advantage is momentarily ours. He’s on the defensive, and he will strike back at us, which gives us time to prepare. The only question is: how soon will he come?”_

_In answer to Eamon’s speech, the heavy doors at the other side of the hall rocked, sending a thunderous echo across the entire building. It sounded like a battering ram crashing through a wall for all its fury, and made Kallian raise her hands to cover her ears. But even then, as she turned to see the source of the cacophony, a part of her hoped it was a grand entrance of the red haired human._

_A moment later, and the doors swung open, letting the cold outside air rush in like a tide of darkspawn. Several candles were snuffed, and a heavy fireplace on a far wall flickered to embers. Several members of the party, as well as Eamon, raised their arms to shield their eyes from the freezing onslaught._

_Even with the high winds battering the inside of Eamon’s estate, a new sound crushed everything: the metallic clanks and crunches of dozens of armored feet as they marched in perfect rhythm. Kallian looked up from behind her arm to see soldiers with Loghain’s crest painted on their chests, shields and banners take up positions all around the room, marching like automated golems rather than people. Her eyes shifted left and right as she watched them surround the party. Sten squared his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. Oghren growled. Even Wynne showed heavy discomfort, and her fingertips began to glow a subtle orange color._

_Behind the soldiers, three more armored figures arrived. On the left, a woman in the heaviest plate Kallian had ever seen walked with her arms behind her back. Compared to the plainness of Goldanna, this new arrival looked more like a hawk than a human. Angular features, a piercing gaze that reminded her of a raptor, and an attitude that broached no disrespect. Her military training was evident just from the way she carried herself, and also in the manner in which she looked toward everyone in the room one at a time, sizing up their strengths._

_In the center, Loghain walked forward with a confident gait, his opulent armor shining in the colored lights of the hall. Compared to the harshness of Ostagar months before, Loghain now looked softer, maybe a little rounder along his chin and neck. And yet his eyes, which should have been beacons of gluttonous health to match the rest of his body, were sunken, ringed and wide. He had the body of a sedentary leader, but the eyes of a man lost in terror and doubt. The way he glanced between the soldiers, Eamon and Alistair made it even clearer. Where the soldier next to him oozed confidence, Loghain appeared to be on the verge of fleeing, or perhaps lashing out in fear._

_If Kallian’s skin crawled when she first entered Eamon’s estate, looking at the man on the right made her flesh want to slough off and jump out the nearest window. Pointed, pinched features over a hairless chin made him look like everything in her worst dreams about humans. His eyes, too close together for comfort, leered at everyone. They sat atop a large nose that flared every time he took a sniffling breath. Below that proboscis, a thin mouth wriggled and writhed like a dying worm, whispering things into Loghain’s ear that Kallian never wanted to hear spoken aloud. He did not wear armor like everyone else that had walked in with him. Instead, he dressed himself in fine leathers and a golden tunic, cut in a way that barely fit over his bone-like arms and sunken chest._

_As the three of them approached the group, they all made a courteous bow that showed no honor or respect. Kallian scowled as Eamon returned the gesture. And yet, she could also hear the human whisper “speak of the devil, and he shall appear” under his breath._

_All four humans rose at the same time as Alistair did a quick, uncomfortable bow of his own, this one with a fist clasped over his heart, like all Templars do._

_Eamon spoke first. “Lord Loghain, It is an honor to have you in my home. I admit, I didn’t expect the regent would be able to find the time to greet me personally.” The words came with a smile, but Kallian could see the way it wrinkled the old man’s face. An excellent performance._

_“How could I not welcome a man so important that he called every land-holding noble in the country to this city while a blight claws at our lands?” Loghain did not repeat the performance. Instead, his vitriol came out like spittle, and landed over the group._

_“The blight is why I’m here. With the loss of King Cailan, Ferelden_ must _have a strong ruler to see it through this crisis. The landsmeet will settle this issue for us all.”_

_Loghain growled before speaking, and Kallian saw the woman at his side raise her hand to his shoulder. “Ferelden has a ruler, its queen! And I will lead her armies, all of them, to victory over the blight!” He did not shout the words, but the passion in which he spoke may as well have been._

_“After Ostagar, maybe Ferelden needs a new general too.” Kallian spoke before thinking, as her mind still processed the image of the man before her ranting and raving. The armored human’s head turned immediately from Eamon to her. He towered over the elf, and a smug grin came to his haggard face as he peered at her._

_“Ah, so I see the rumors that Eamon has allied himself with the wardens were true all along. Tell me, warden, at what price did he sell himself to you? How much of our homeland is going to be put in your pockets for this rebellion?” He turned from her and went back to Eamon, apparently satisfied with his words. “It is unfortunate that you have sided yourself with traitors. But it does make things clear to me.”_

_Before the greying man could rebut, Loghain began to pace, and slid his hands behind his back in a pose much like the armored woman stood in. “There are also rumors about an illness making you feeble, Eamon. Some worry that you may no longer have the capability of advising Ferelden. Seeing you standing next to these mongrels is all the proof I need.”_

_All pretense of civility dropped from the Arl of Redcliffe, and he stepped forward, interrupting Loghain’s pacing. “’Illness’? Why don’t you call your poison for what it is, Loghain? When the nobles of our great country hear about everything you’ve done to secure your power, none of them will stand with you. I assure you, the loyalties of our proud people will not be as easily swayed as these… sycophants of yours.”_

_“How long you’ve been away from court, poor sick Eamon.” Loghain said with thick sarcasm and heavy anger. It as if both humans were within seconds of coming to blows as they stood eye-to-eye. “Don’t you recognize Rendon Howe, the Arl of Amaranthine, and Teyrn of Highever?”_

_Rendon Howe. Now Kallian had a name to the face that made her feel ill._

_And when he spoke, the elf almost vomited. His voice oozed like an old wound, full of smugness and cruelty. It sounded so much like Vaughan in cadence and tone. “And current Arl of Denerim.” He said with a grin. “Since Uriel’s unfortunate demise at Ostagar, and the… tragic loss of his son.”_

_Howe’s beady eyes turned to Kallian as he said that, and his grin widened to show his brown, crooked teeth._

_Arl of Denerim? It was on the Arl’s orders that the alienage had been closed off. And that guard with his dented armor, talking about how he had killed elves, and how Kallian would have been counted as just another troublemaker to be put down if she tried anything._

_“You… you ordered the alienage gate to be locked?” she asked with as much calm as she could muster. At the same time, Kallian kept her hands at her sides, forcing her arm muscles to remain stiff and locked, lest she jump at Howe and force him to reopen the gate._

_“When the animals get feisty in their cage, sometimes it’s best to put them down.” Howe sneered again, then turned away from the elf._

_The effort to remain calm turned Kallian into a trembling mass. She knew her face had turned red, and her eyes squinted. Her lungs burned as she took tiny, panicked breaths. “You butchered my people?”_

_Still not looking at her, Denerim’s new Arl sighed. “This is an example of why I made such a harsh decision. Sometimes you just have to cull a herd rather than let a disease spread.”_

_Her arms reacted without thinking, and her daggers were free. Her vision went red as she took a step forward, and she watched the world disappear. For a moment, the only thing she wanted to see was Rendon Howe’s head on the floor. Agonizing thoughts stormed in her head, like how much she had failed her cousin. Images of Shianni returned to that horrible unthinking state, her father run through with a sword, Soris trampled into the mud, lifeless. They mixed until her heart ached and her eyes welled with hot tears._

_She did not speak, but let out a pained wail as she tried to rush the human. But she could not move any further. Instead, multiple hands grasped her shoulder, hooked around her stomach, and barred her chest. All of her companions, even Morrigan, aided in preventing her from moving. In fact, the witch had moved from somewhere behind everyone to just next to Kallian in the blinks of an eye._

_“This is a trap, warden. He wants you to react this way and give him cause to arrest you and Alistair, do you not see it?” She whispered in Kallian’s ear, and the entire thought raced through her mind at the speed of a magic spell. “Don’t fall for it. You’re better than this.”_

_Kallian’s heart did not slow down, but she did lower her hands. As the world cleared and went back to normal, she saw that indeed, almost no time had passed from the moment Howe spoke to Morrigan’s words of warning. With the human’s attention focused on Eamon and not on her, he did not see the obvious physical threat._

_Lucky._

_Unfortunately, the soldier woman saw everything. She walked up to Kallian’s trembling face while Loghain, Eamon and Howe argued. With a quiet tone, she spoke down to the elf. “You are either very brave or very stupid to threaten a noble like that, elf. Don’t let it happen again.”_

_“’Tis not the elf you should be worried about.” Morrigan said in Kallian’s defense._

_Kallian’s attention went to the three human men, who continued to talk with raised voices. Loghain resumed his pacing, and walked in circles around Eamon while Howe prevented the older man from moving away. A pair of predators stalking their prey._

_“I had hoped to talk you down from this rash course of action, Eamon. Our people are frightened, their king is dead, and all our lands are under siege. We should be united under a common banner to meet this threat. Don’t you remember your own sister? Queen Rowan fought to unite this country, and here you are trying to divide it again! Your selfish ambitions to the throne will only see Ferelden ruined.”_

_Under the barrage of words, and Howe’s horrible presence inches from his face, Eamon sighed, crossed his arms, and lowered his gaze. “I cannot forgive you for what you’ve done, Loghain. Perhaps the Maker will, in his way, but not I. Our people need and deserve a king of the Theirin bloodline, not mine.”_

_He paused and looked the general in the eye, summoning whatever last reserves of strength he had left. “That is why Alistair will be king, and he alone will lead our country to victory against the blight.”_

_He might as well have set off an explosion of magic with his words. Whatever arguments Loghain had prepared died in his throat, and even Howe reared back in shock. The soldiers that surrounded the room gasped and shuddered before resuming formation. And, of course, inside the party were exclamations and looks of surprise. Alistair’s face turned so pale as to almost be transparent._

_The silence that followed could have swallowed the world._

_“I, uh, WHAT?” Alistair stammered. Even much of Kallian’s rage died as she succumbed to the new information. King Alistair?_

_No, her rage didn’t die. It just moved somewhere else: to Loghain. She watched as his face contorted and his flesh turn rose-pink. He stormed to Eamon and jabbed an armored finger almost into the other man’s face. “The Emperor of Orlais thought I could not bring him down, and I proved him wrong. Expect no mercy from me, as I showed none to him. And I will show none to any traitor that tries to ruin my homeland! There is NOTHING I would not do for Ferelden!” His spittle hit Eamon’s face and beard with enough force to make the Arl wince, but he did not back down._

_“We’re leaving.” Loghain finished with a deep grunt and turned away. On his heels, his two advisors and the rest of the guards filed out with a rush of sound and color._

_As soon as the last soldier left, the heavy doors slammed shut with a CRASH, and the room became smothered in cold stillness. A few servants scuttled out from side doors like curious mice, and re-lit the dead candles one by one._

_“Me? King?” Alistair continued to stammer to himself in a daze. “No, no, I can’t…”_

_Eamon took a moment to wipe his face with a cloth and compose himself, then smiled. “Well that was… bracing. I didn’t expect Loghain to show himself quite like that. And to think I once thought that pigs would fly before Loghain Mac Tir would turn against a rightful king and his people like that.”_

_“Are you serious? Alistair on the throne?” Wynne asked as she regained her senses as well._

_“I weep for your country.” Morrigan added._

_Eamon sighed. “He is the only living descendant of Maric, and the rightful man to take Cailan’s place. I do not make this suggestion lightly, but it’s the only way to unite all the nobles to our cause. Loghain’s daughter Anora may have married Cailan, but the man himself is still an outsider. His claims are shoddy at best, and he’s using fear of the darkspawn and wardens to keep many people in line. If our message is one of hope and stability, we will win the landsmeet.”_

_“And I thought dwarven politics were bad.” Oghren slurred. Behind him, Alistair’s eyes dulled as he lost himself in thought, still babbling. Eamon noticed this at the same time Kallian did._

_The Arl turned from the Templar to the elf. “I heard what Howe said about the alienage, and I truly am sorry. I’ll try to see if my authority can grant you access to your home, if only temporarily, warden. But until then, we still need eyes and ears in the city, and find more evidence to use against Loghain.” He paused and glanced at Alistair again. “While I take care of him, can I trust you to do this? I promise I will get you back home as soon as I can, but there is still much work to be done.”_

_Kallian nodded, which prompted Eamon to do the same. Without a further word, he walked to Alistair, put an arm over his shoulder, and walked the mumbling young man into a far room._

_“Lifting Alistair to a position of leadership?” Sten asked in the quiet room. “Madness.”_

_“Perhaps it’s for the best.” Leliana said from behind Kallian. She turned just in time to see the bard pass by her left shoulder and stand in the center of the group, away from her. “Alistair is a good man, and of royal blood. Eamon knows what he’s doing.”_

_“We’re all doomed.” Morrigan said as she left._

_The others agreed as they took their leave, even the surprisingly quiet shale thundered out._

_As the sputtering fireplace returned to life, Kallian stared at Leliana._

_“Can we talk?”_


	17. Chapter 17

_Leliana guided Kallian through Eamon’s estate, past the halls she had walked with Alistar, through servant’s doors, and up a staircase into a new set of halls and rooms. The more of the miniature palace they passed, the more she realized that the entire population of the alienage could live in this one building alone. Each family could have a home of their own in here, and they could all work the thousands of jobs necessary to keep such a massive construction cleaned and fresh. It would have been cramped, and entire families would need to fit inside one bedroom, but she knew no one would turn it down. Stone walls instead of rotting wood? Open fireplaces always stocked with fresh logs instead of tiny pits nursing black embers? Even if ten elves occupied a room built for one human, it would be luxury. Her heart sank with jealousy and sorrow for her people._

_Her people, locked inside the alienage, possibly slaughtered, on the orders of a shem. Kallian felt her insides tremble as she mulled it over again and again. If only the group hadn’t held her back against Howe. She savored the fantasy of removing his head._

_After a long walk that strained Kallian’s exhausted feet, Leliana opened a door and guided her inside. As the elf expected, it was another bedroom, but smaller than the others and clearly built away from any important places. Perhaps sleeping quarters meant for a disliked guest or a very low-ranking noble. No matter its true purpose, Kallian guessed why Leliana chose it: they were very far away from everyone else, and any potential eavesdroppers._

_The two of them walked past a small four-poster bed and sat down on a yellow couch that sat under a small closed window. As her body relaxed on the feather cushion, she noticed the clashing colors in the decorations. Harsh yellow furniture, deep blue carpets, and even a green tapestry draped over a wall. Not only was this room small, far away and unimportant, it seemed like the dumping ground for the decorations Eamon did not wish to display. Kallian didn’t blame him._

_She turned her attention back to the human. Leliana’s eyes were ringed and dark red, and her cheeks had the faint white outlines of dried tears that had not been wiped away. She had changed out of her armor as well, and wore a simple dress that wouldn’t have looked out of place in any chantry or temple across the continent. Kallian’s mind spared a moment to wonder where Leliana got it, but crushed the thought._

_“Are you okay, Leliana?” She asked as she tried not to stare at the dried tear marks. She hated seeing those. Instead, she concentrated on the red hair. It didn’t sit wild on her head, but neither had it been delicately styled and braided like in Orzammar. It just… was there. Flat and undone, complementing the woman’s looks._

_“I didn’t expect to feel this way, Kallian.” Leliana said, barely above a whisper. “I thought if Marjolaine was gone, I could go back to the way things were. I told myself that you were right, that I had finally been freed from her.”_

_“But…?” She let the word linger as the tempo of her heart increased and her stomach tied itself in knots. In that instant, her mind came to the only logical conclusion for this setting: whatever relationship bloomed between them in these last few weeks, wonderful as it was, had come to an end. Why else would she have walked all this way to seek privacy? Why else start off their conversation by reinforcing the pain she already knew Leliana felt?_

_As if this day couldn’t have gotten worse. Her family suffered and died behind sealed walls, Loghain and Howe controlled the entire city, and now one of her sole sources of comfort could no longer stand to be with her. In that moment, Kallian wished for the entire blight to turn toward Denerim and burn it down, with her standing in the middle. A vicious, agonized fight against fire and darkspawn would have been preferable to enduring any of this._

_“Love is complicated.” Leliana sighed as she turned her gaze downward, to the floor._

_In that gesture, her fears became truth. Her anxieties were made manifest._

_Over._

_What they had done to Marjolaine, or rather what Marjolaine had done to Leliana, hurt her far too much. She said so outside the city, right after they met up in camp. The claws of the dead woman were permanent, it seemed, and Leliana would continue to suffer their mistresses’ absence for the rest of her life. To Kallian, it seemed like the bard’s heart had been squeezed and crushed, leaving no more room for anyone else. Her failure to assuage her lover’s pain had been complete._

_“I think I understand.” Kallian said as she tensed her muscles and pushed against the cushions. She didn’t want to draw out any goodbyes, or complicate things with empty gestures or platonic kisses. Leliana had severed the cord on her end, and so now it fell to Kallian to do the same. Unfortunately, the elf had no chantry to sit and meditate in, no priests to confide with, and no family to talk to. Thanks to Howe, she would have to do this alone._

_Alone. Her family imprisoned. Her lover broken. Her friends elsewhere. Kallian Tabris had spent a lot of time alone in recent months, and she recognized the empty feeling it left behind. She welcomed it like an old friend._

_She stood up and put her left leg forward. She just needed to walk away, and this severance would be done. Yank it out like you would a blade or an arrow just before applying healing magic. Although in her case, the “magic” would be a great deal of Eamon’s alcohol. The noble hadn’t exactly given her a tour, but she knew where the kitchens were. A grotesquely pleasant side effect to all the noble houses looking the same meant she knew where the find the wine cellar._

_She thought to herself that maybe she could succumb to alcohol poisoning and be done with this blight business, this insipid “love” debacle, and the heartache of her family. Elves were naturally thinner than humans, and she stood shorter than the average elf. It wouldn’t take a lot for her to get blackout drunk, and not much more than that to pass away._

_Even though the thought of death created a sobering spike of anxiety and terror in Kallian’s mind, it paled in comparison to the raging melancholy that gripped her now. The two emotions wrestled in her mind as she took another step. One of them would win tonight, and she would pay the consequences, lethal or otherwise. And she would have no one to witness her fall. No one to talk to, or try and talk her out of it._

_Alistair would forgive her when he found out, right? At least now he had a family he could go back to, horrible as she seemed. Besides, if Eamon’s plans worked out, he’d be elevated to King soon enough. He didn’t need to worry about putting a sword to darkspawn anymore, he’d have a whole kingdom to do it for him. It was a natural conclusion. Just like how the image of a lonely drunk elf lying in a puddle of her own vomit felt like a natural thing._

_“Where are you going?” Leliana asked._

_Kallian stopped, but didn’t turn around. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” She growled as the war between horror and heartache, death and loneliness, burned in her mind._

_“What?”_

_With her eyes locked on the door that felt absurdly distant, and the world growing blurry from the tears that welled in her eyes, Kallian didn’t see Leliana reach out and touch her hand. Instead, she felt every warm sensation as the human’s fingers wrapped around her own. Leliana’s skin, both soft and calloused from constant fighting, pressed against her own with gentle pressure._

_The slightest tug was all it took for Kallian to turn her entire body around. Leliana looked fuzzier in her tear-drenched vision, but still a radiant beacon of red and white against the grey and featureless castle._

_Still holding her hand for dear life, the bard stood and placed herself in front of Kallian. Their height difference wasn’t as pronounced as between her and human men, but she still felt tiny compared to the woman. Her bleary eyes met Leliana’s chin as she looked straight on, so she raised her neck to look at the human’s blurred face._

_“I wanted to tell you that I thought about what you said. I am not free from her influence, she shaped my life in ways I cannot put into words. But so have you. I’m not her pet killer anymore, but neither am I an innocent cloistered sister with no past and no future but with the Maker. Because of you, I’m someone new.”_

_“Then what are you?” Kallian asked as she felt warmth and moisture drip down her cheeks and pool at the point of her chin._

_“Yours.”_

_The kiss they shared might as well have caused thunder to crash through the cold city streets and the world to collapse. The elf’s hands freed themselves and clutched into the human’s hair as their lips parted and wrestled against each other, not for dominance, but to just feel each other. Their tongues met for a moment, lost in a sensation that Kallian feared she would never experience again. A moment later, and Leliana broke, but only to begin laying soft, sensual kisses down Kallian’s bandaged neck, then pushed her blue Warden tunic to the side to continue brushing past her exposed shoulder. The taller woman’s heavy breaths flitted past her ear as she lavished the attention._

_The rest of that afternoon, and late into the night, all of Kallian’s fears and worries evaporated, and she prayed to Leliana’s Maker that she reciprocated. She wept again, but not out of sorrow, and she smiled every time her lover wiped the tears away, much like she had done in the cart all those weeks ago. The city around them had trouble enough to drive her mad, but in that one room, for that one special time, they didn’t exist. She allowed herself to feel normal, feel loved, and above all else, not feel alone._

 

_***_

 

Keeran wasn’t sure whether to lean forward or lean back anymore. His body had become numb to the chair, and he could not stop fidgeting. “Well, I certainly didn’t expect quite so much detail.” A thin sheen of sweat had formed on his brow as he became enraptured by the warden’s story, but even that could not overcome the sensation of numb soreness in his lower body. From a daring glance downward, he could tell the women who sat across from him felt the same.

“Probably a good sign to end it right here.” The Hero of Ferelden nodded and blinked heavy-lidded eyes. The rookery had no way to tell the time aside from the birds and few portals to the outside, but Keeran knew they had passed the midnight mark and were deep into the next morning. Hours upon hours of sitting and talking had taken their toll on the three of them.

Leliana yawned in agreement and exhaustion, something that the Inquisitor had never seen her do. Like many of the behaviors she exhibited around her elven lover, it shocked him at first, but then brought a smirk to his face. It felt good to know someone out there had the power to humanize his spymaster, and remind her how to be a person rather than a weapon or a shadow. He had done his best during the fight against Corypheus, but their world-changing important duties (and her general frightening aura) prevented him from befriending her like some of the other members of the Inquisition’s inner circle.

“Yes, you two have a good night.” Keeran Trevelyan said as he stood up on shaky legs, not only tired from sitting, but uneasy from the mug of ale. He didn’t turn around to say anything more as he moved down the rookery’s steps, but he could still hear the sound of leather and cloth rubbing against each other, as well as a breathy sigh or two. On his way down the stairs, he saw Leliana’s agent, Phillipe, approaching with a second tray of food and ale. He stopped the silent young man with a wary upturned hand. “Leliana is indisposed for the night.” She said with a raised eyebrow, he hoped the new guy got the meaning. “Take that back, if you don’t mind.”

Fortunately, the Inquisitor’s authority superseded the Nightingale’s in the affairs of food delivery, so Phillipe nodded and turned around. No expression shifted across his face as he did so. Creepy.

Keeran rarely walked through Skyhold at night. More often than not, his duties during the day left him exhausted, and he’d spend many hours locked in his chambers. Not that he got to sleep much. After the daily chores were done, he had mountains of paperwork and documents to read and sign thanks to Josephine and the others, and they often kept him up quite late. Not long ago, Dorian kept him company during those quiet times, sitting with Keeran as they concluded their official business so they could get to other kinds of activities on the bed. The other man’s lifetime of political experience, shrewd intelligence and amazing wit helped the Inquisitor immeasurably in the waning days of the Corypheus conflict, and now the castle felt much emptier without him. Skyhold sighed as the evening’s air wafted through its now-barren halls.

The walk up the stairs to his private bedroom sapped the last of the Inquisitor’s energy, and he landed face-first on his luxurious bed without sparing a change to change or freshen himself.

 

Next morning, a few documents demanded his immediate attention, and Cullen wished to consult with the Inquisitor about how best to divide their forces now that the immediate threat had passed, but that was it. Some nobles were getting upset about continued military presence in their lands, and without a darkspawn uprising or other threat to use as an excuse, they needed to redistribute their resources fast. Such mundane things left Keeran almost as bone-weary as he felt the night before, but he endured them and gave whatever flat advice he could give to a man who had dedicated his life to martial service. The fourth son of House Trevelyan had very little experience in such matters, he had occupied his time before the Inquisition practicing with his sword (in all contexts of the phrase) and spending his family’s money.

A few pilgrims to Skyhold vied for his attention, of course, and some members of the Inquisition still fawned over his victories, but his workload ended much earlier than anticipated. Even Josephine had walked out of her office and into the library, searching for something to do after finishing her meetings and other duties early in the afternoon.

Keeran took a walk through Skyhold’s courtyard, not skipping this time, with his hands clasped behind his back and a regal grin plastered on his face. Hundreds of people watched him, though they all tried to pretend they were more interested in their own affairs than him. The castle’s courtyard had once been an overgrown ruin, then a hospital for many of the continent’s sick and injured in the chaotic days, and now had become a small town of its own. Pilgrims, chantry sisters, and clerics mingled with regular tourists as they took in the sights. And in their midst, business owners and merchants sold their wares and refreshments just like if they were in a big city, giving comfort and refreshment at a price. A few were no doubt selling illicit mementos and souvenirs of the castle and Inquisition, but Keeran had confidence someone would find out and stop it. Or maybe they wouldn’t.

Instead of wading through the thickest of the crowds, Keeran walked over to the tavern, the ‘Herald’s Rest’, as it had been named. It probably should have felt strange to have a tavern named after him, albeit in an oblique manner, but he didn’t feel shame as he walked in. The religious crowd kept away from the establishment, and many of the pilgrims were too poor to afford the relatively expensive (importing to a remote castle in the mountains isn’t cheap) alcohol, so it remained free of huge numbers. Fortunately, most members of the Inquisition were offered free, or severely reduced in price, drinks, so even in these strange new days, it remained a primary place to rest and unwind.

Naturally, many of the regulars were already here, enjoying their free time as much as anyone. A dozen or so scouts took up an entire corner, drinking, playing dice and talking with raised voices. Near the windows, a tourist family in expensive finery tried to enjoy a meal of porridge and bread, the finest food on offer, as if they sat in a fancy Orlesian restaurant. The adults shivered every time the scouts cheered or shouted, while the children wriggled in their seats, eager to see the more entertaining happenings.

Iron Bull and his company had their usual spot well-guarded and free of intrusion. The giant Qunari often kept people away, fortunately he enjoyed inflicting that empty fear onto people. He never did anything more than nod at strangers, or sometimes stand up and flex his muscles, and they’d flee the tavern with all haste.

Sera had descended from her own nook upstairs to join the chargers this afternoon, and Keeran walked in on her telling a story with her usual pep and flair. He didn’t hear the words over the din of the scouts, but her gestures said more than enough about the filth and hilarity of the scene. As he moved closer, he saw that two other people had joined the chargers in making merriment. Kallian and Leliana sat on opposite sides of a table, enraptured by Sera’s tale, and laughing at the jokes along with everyone. That alone didn’t surprise him, as he knew his spymaster accompanied the warden around the castle, and wouldn’t leave her side until she left again to continue her quest. What did shock him was the fact that neither of them wore their armor or other trappings of duty and rank. The blue and silver warden armor had been replaced by a simple set of clothes spun with dark brown cloth. Leliana had eschewed her hood and armor, letting her hair shine in the clear sunlight that filtered through the windows, and wore a dress that looked to be made of the finest silks.

Bull let out a guffaw that drowned out all the other noise after Sera punctuated a sentence by driving her fist onto the table, and was soon joined by his men and their guests. Even the scouts paused their revelry to look in his direction.

“Boss!” The Qunari said as his one eye spotted Keeran in an instant. “Boss, over here! Pull up a chair! You need to hear this shit!”

“Get over here, you!” Sera spoke at the same time, trying to interrupt him with mischievous intent.

Under the watchful gaze of the barman, the Inquisitor took a chair from one table and plonked it down next to bull, across from Kallian and Leliana. “Sounds like you’re having a good time.”

“Why didn’t anybody tell me the great _Hero of Ferelden_ came from Denerim!?” Sera shouted at him with a smile almost wide enough to break her face. “We’ve been talking for hours, and you know how much I hate that!”

Kallian smiled and nodded as Sera pointed in her direction.

“I thought everybody knew that.” Keeran said, taken aback.

“Not me!”

Bull leaned in to join the talking. “The two of them have been explaining what it was like to live in the city before the blight. Apparently some great stuff went down back in the day.”

Sera giggled. “Yeah, like that time when that noble ponceyfart tried to close the market?”

Kallian finished the thought with “And then he…” before making a rude gesture with her hand.

“But everybody else was like…” Sera returned the gesture, but waved it around her head and stuck out her tongue to make a large pbbbbt noise.

Bull sighed. “Sometimes you gotta get used to their humor.” He turned to Keeran as the elves reminisced. “So what brings you down here at this hour?”

“Slow day.” The Inquisitor said.

“I noticed. Hopefully this isn’t a prelude to some stupid crap. The worst things always happen when it gets quiet.”

“Thanks for that, Bull.” Keeran said with a smirk. “Now I’ll know who to blame when shit starts going down.”

That got another roar of laughter that was quenched by a gulp of Bull’s famous foul-smelling brew.

Keeran turned back to the rest of the table, where Sera had finished complimenting the Hero of Ferelden for “not being all elfy” and waving over a new round of drinks.

As the laughter faded and the compliments drifted away, Bull, as usual, took charge of the conversation. “So, warden.” He turned to the small black-haired elf. “What was Denerim like right before it all happened? You know, darkspawn breathing down your neck, politics going nuts and all that? I tried asking Sera, but she doesn’t know crap.” The well-intentioned insult got a well-intentioned raspberry and rude gesture in return.

The warden took a long drink of whatever she had been given and faced the Qunari.   

“Well…”


	18. Chapter 18

_Kallian resisted the urge to sneer as her reflection stared back at her. Where there had once been bruising, swelling, scabs and cuts all across her visible flesh, now stood a scant few unsightly holdouts on top of fully repaired skin. Her eyes still had rings of darkness around them, but the injuries were minor and hard to notice unless one had seen their severe extent before. And after Leliana had applied a tiny stiff brush covered in some kind of dark powder to the sensitive areas, they seemed to disappear._

_All around the elf, the trappings of upper-class human “beauty” threatened to swallow her whole. She sat on a chair covered in soft animal fur, and stuffed with enough feathers to make it feel like she hovered on empty air. Before her, a massive desk made of polished and painted wood supported a mirror larger than she had ever seen. And on top of the desk’s smooth surface, dozens of brushes, oils, perfumes, powders and dyes sat ready to use. A sea of shemlen artificiality and excess._

_Behind Kallian, Leliana’s smile threatened to outshine the sun itself. While the night before had been… exciting for the both of them, it seemed this morning would be the true highlight of her reunion. They thankfully no longer occupied the gaudy mismatched room, but now took up residence in one of the arlessa’s servant’s chambers. Basically a warehouse for clothes, jewelry and makeup for the times when Isolde left Redcliffe and paid visits to Denerim, with a moderate bed shoved in a corner._

_Where Kallian saw fake pomposity, Leliana saw a return to comfort. The human pulled, prodded, brushed, scraped and did a thousand other things to the elf’s mostly-healed body in an attempt to make her look “pretty” for a human noble they had been scheduled to meet later in the day._

_“We’re meeting Bann Alfstanna today.” She reminded Kallian. “She seems willing to support our side, but only if we can prove we have what it takes to stop Loghain and end the blight. That means we must look the part.”_

_“Can’t I just polish my armor some more?” Kallian winced as her hair once again got tugged to the side. She swore she could feel some of the strands rip free of her scalp. “I can make my armor look REALLY shiny and fancy.”_

_“Don’t be silly. She needs to know we’re not just some gang of barbarians who want to cause trouble for her frightened people. We have to look like a group with all the answers, even if we may have none to give. It’s all part of the game.”_

_“What about my daggers?” the warden asked, pretending to ignore the solid advice on dealing with stuck-up shem nobility. “I can put on an exciting show for everyone. Remember when I hit that target with a throwing knife at fifty paces?”_

_“No.”_

_“You’re no fun.”_

_The response was another tug and a yank at her hair, which aggravated her neck. She blurted out a startled “Easy!” before regaining composure._

_Kallian’s hand went up to the bandage, which still clung tight to her neck. The deep and horrifying bruises she had seen in Orzammar were gone, but the aches and sharp pains remained. In the mirror, with only a thin brown robe hanging off her shoulders instead of her fitted Grey Warden armor, the white cloth stuck out like a macabre collar. She pawed at it for a time while Leliana worked on something at the back of her head._

_“What are you doing?” Leliana asked without looking up._

_“Do I really need this anymore? It’s been a long time.”_

_The bard stopped pulling and twisting Kallian’s hair and looked toward the strip wrapped tightly around the elf’s neck._

_“I believe Wynne wanted you to keep it on for another week or so. You being who you are, always ready to jump into battle, tend to come across some nasty things that might set off an infection.”_

_“But what will that rich lady whatshername think if she saw the only living Wardens covered in bruises and bandages? Won’t that send a bad message?”_

_Leliana paused. “Hmm… I suppose if we find a shirt with a high enough neck… and hide what’s left with some of Isolde’s powders…”_

_Kallian needed no other confirmation, and her fingers dug into the collar-made-of-cloth without hesitation. The effort burned her sensitive flesh, but she ignored it. The clean white bandage deformed and warped under her touch, exposing skin several shades lighter than the rest of her head and a few long scars over the purple and yellow remains of a massive injury._

_“Wait!” the human slapped Kallian’s hand away with gentle, but firm, pressure. “You’ll make yourself bleed doing that. Let me.”_

_Leliana stepped closer to the overstuffed chair and knelt down beside the elf, her eyes sparkling with mirth from both the setting and the renewed closeness between them._

_The bard’s quick fingers moved like they always did: with precision and grace. Not a single motion was wasted in her ministrations, and she did not cause the bandage to twist or knot against itself. Instead, as if she had magical control over the material itself, she rolled it into a perfect spiral. It seemed as if she returned the bandage to its natural state, fresh off the loom, and ready to be unwound. The cloth peeled away from the elf in gentle arcs, joining the roll in Leliana’s hands at a fevered pace. She only had to tilt her head forwards and back once or twice to make sure her companion had the room to undo the entire thing._

_Kallian’s unbound neck was not filthy from lack of washing, nor did the remaining injuries tell any obvious story of her throat being ripped from her body. But the mismatched tone of the skin, the result of being hidden from the sun for so long, could not be mistaken. The teeth marks were permanent scars, faint as they were. And a thin trail of dirt followed along one side of her flesh, a remnant of the place where the bandage had been wrapped too tight, and some nastiness accumulated after the last redressing._

_As air touched her neck for the first time in ages, the warden let in a deep breath and shivered. She had almost forgotten the sensation of not being half-choked every day. At the same time, a cold breeze wafted from the window and tickled against her freshly exposed skin, causing it to tighten and form goosebumps all across her body._

_“Lovely” Leliana said as she discarded the rolled bandage and moved closer. She did not reach out to touch the lingering bruise, nor did she lean in to kiss the uncovered skin, she just brought her gaze closer to what she revealed. “I confess, I forgot how graceful some of your features can be.”_

_“Is that an elf joke?” Kallian jabbed with a smile._

_“What? No, I mean...” Leliana sputtered, but she soon caught on. “I was serious.” She brushed some of Kallian’s hair back and tucked it behind her long ear. “You really are lovely.”_

_“Well…” Kallian squirmed in the poofy chair. “Thanks.”_

_“Stay still.”_

_The human disappeared for a time, leaving Kallian alone to stare at her fully uncovered face. The few dabs of powder and cosmetics Leliana had applied were more like base-coats of paint, or meant specifically to hide her remaining injuries. The lines and contours that looked back at her were entirely her own. And while the surroundings still wanted to make her gag, the person in the mirror did not. She’d never been called ‘lovely’ before, not in that context. Back in the alienage, the elves she fancied, and those who fancied her back, had used similar words, but not lovely. Since joining the wardens and seeing Ferelden at large, she had been derisively called things that made fun of her features in flowery language, or blatantly compared to whores, but never genuinely complimented for her appearance._

_That one word alone caused a million new butterflies to hatch in her stomach and flutter about._

_Leliana returned a moment later, holding a ceramic bowl full of steaming water and a clean washcloth. She set the bowl on the cosmetic-covered desk and dipped a corner of the towel into the liquid. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.” She said as she placed the warm cloth on the uninjured side of Kallian’s neck, where the streak of dirt and filth had been left behind._

_In a way, it felt like a return to the old and familiar to have warm fabric touch her neck again, but a new electric tingle joined the sensation every time Leliana moved._

_“I can do this myself, you know.” She said as a few dark thoughts intruded on the butterflies and tingles. Humiliating memories of doing similar jobs for humans that barely paid enough coin to be worth it, and thoughts of how Leliana had to do such a thing for her while she clung to life on the cart to Orzammar, but sometimes in worse places on a ruined body._

_“Shush, you.” The bard said with a grin that had not faded. “I would not be doing this if I didn’t wish to.”_

_The sentence calmed her mind, and allowed Kallian to ignore the lingering doubts. Instead, she gazed into the mirror and admired the sight before her. An elf waited on by a human, sitting in a palace and surrounded by luxury. What would the alienage think of her now?_

_Leliana finished with the smudged lines of dirt and returned the cloth to the water, only to return and start washing the back of her neck. Kallian closed her eyes and smiled as she concentrated on the human’s body at her side, warm and close, full of affection. The cloth did not scratch or scrape like she would have done to herself if she were wiping blood or other residue off her body. No, it felt like a gentle kiss every time Leliana renewed her ministrations, warm and inviting, coating her skin with moisture that evaporated into the air a moment after the touch dissipated. Even the damaged and bruised skin tickled and formed goosebumps under the exceedingly gentle cleaning. She felt no pain at all._

_Leliana contorted herself around her lover as she wiped the neck clean. She put herself in unnecessarily complicated poses, wrapping and bending her torso in a way that looked painful, and would have been much easier to just walk to the other side of the chair. But the complex ballet put her closer to Kallian, and allowed her body to come into contact with the elf’s in many different ways, furthering the intimacy and comfort of the act. Kallian tried to not hold her breath as she felt her torso being pressed down by Leliana’s, and instead let her gentle breathing push her body closer and closer._

_Of course, that’s when one of Eamon’s servants slammed the door open and, out of breath, gave them the urgent message to head for the arl’s study. Something had happened to the Queen._

_  
***_

_Queen Anora’s servant, an elf with a ridiculously fake accent, told them what they needed to know. If she told the truth, it would be a massive blow to Loghain and his support. Locking his own daughter, the widow of King Cailan, in a room like a common criminal? It would outrage the nobility. But they needed proof, and they needed her to be freed so she could speak against the horrific deeds Loghain had allowed since taking power. If her voice could be added to the growing number of opposing nobles, and the bid to put Alistair on the throne, the general would face overwhelming odds._

_Of course, Loghain hadn’t done the imprisonment himself. No, his right hand, Rendon Howe, had given the order. Seemingly under the regent’s order, however, and followed the fullest extent of the law for a woman of such high station. She did not rot in a city jail, nor had she been taken to the tower that dominated Denerim’s skyline. Those places were for lowborn thugs and enemy combatants, not Queens. Instead, she had been relegated to a servant’s room in Arl Howe’s personal estate._

His _house._

_The arl of Denerim’s estate._

_Not Howe’s._

_Vaughan’s._

_Kallian tried to ignore it, she really did. All human houses, especially those owned by rich assholes, looked the same, right? It had been that very thought that dominated her mind every moment she spent in Eamon’s home. The same walls, the same decorations, the same callous attitude toward everyone else, human or elf. She should have been able to ignore the dark thoughts by now. She had so much practice._

_She, Alistair, Leliana and Wynne snuck around the outside of the building, darting through gardens, stables and a gallery of gigantic statues as they found a servant’s entrance. The outside didn’t affect her as much as the inside. She had been unconscious when Vaughan’s men dragged her in, and night covered the city when she, Soris and Shianni limped away. Still, a few walls and decorations triggered unpleasant images in her head._

_Dammit, she had pleasant memories of places like this now! Even the memory of gaudy shemlen beauty supplies had been transformed into something less-than-disgusting thanks to earlier events._

Be strong. _She had been strong before, and Shianni lived because of it. She also had friends with her now, she was not alone this time. And the woman they had come to rescue, while in dire straits, was not on the receiving end of the worst torture imaginable._ She would not be screaming until her mouth bled, _Kallian told herself,_ Loghain wouldn’t allow his daughter to endure such things, no matter how far he’s fallen.

_What such things? Surrounded by jeering humans as they beat, stripped and-_

_No, think of Leliana and the way she made it possible to ignore the surroundings and concentrate only on the person beside her. Don’t think of what Shianni had gone through, not now._

_Think of last night and the memories of warmth, of touching, of deepest fulfillment in a building she hated._

_Don’t remember Vaughan and what he did…_

_Try to remember-_

_Don’t think about-_

_The instant Kallian stepped into Howe’s… Vaughan’s…. estate, wearing an oversized city guard overcoat to disguise her true arms and armor, she bent forward and vomited._

_Alistair noticed first as he threw his coat off, revealing his worn but powerful-looking suit of Grey Warden armor. His sword and shield found their places in his hands a moment later as he spoke. “Whoah! Is everything okay?”_

_Wynne and Leliana spoke similar words of dismayed worry a half-second later, and the both of them reached out to steady her legs, which felt as if they had turned into gelatin._

_“I-I’m fine.” She stammered as her stomach inverted itself and let another torrent flow. Every breath she took reminded her of him. Every sight and sound, while almost identical to Eamon’s house, had an ineffable quality of the deceased noble that made her entire body retch._

_“Maybe you should turn around.” Alistair suggested as he peeked around the servant’s entrance they had used to get inside. The room was small, a tiny storage closet for deliveries, and connected to the kitchens through a short hall. It had one entrance, and he kept a hawk-like gaze on it._

_Anora’s servant, the elf, nodded in agreement with Alistair. “Come with me, madame. No one will notice two elves walking away from the building.”_

_The other elf tried to punctuate her words by walking close to Kallian and grabbing her hand. Instead, the warden slapped her away as she took in deep, stomach-churning breaths. The same aromas of bread baking, meat roasting, and furniture polish from months ago filled her body. In turn, those sensations unearthed images and thoughts like darkspawn clawing their way to the surface, refusing to be buried and forgotten anymore._

_No._

_She refused._

_She would not give in to madness again._

_Like she were drowning under a lake, Kallian clawed upward through endless black tides. Her mind wanted nothing more than to sink down, to revel in the madness that had consumed her all those months ago. Because madness was exactly what had overtaken her as she rescued Shianni. The urge, no,_ the need _, to kill every shemlen in her path had not been a simple survival mechanism, but a deep-seated pleasure. She had never been happier than in that moment when she saw Vaughan Kendell’s life drain from his eyes. She knew that not even ending the blight would fill her with as much joy._

_But that was then. She had changed since those dark days, and for the better. The Kallian who had stalked these halls months ago died, probably in the darkspawn attack in the forest. The woman who stood here now had friends, had allies, and had a mission to accomplish. Kallian as she existed today had pushed past those murderous impulses, and had found companionship like she had never known. How could she possibly return to the elf who wanted to murder ever shem she saw? It would mean the end of her quest to stop the blight, the end for her and Leliana, and certainly the end of her life as her friends regretfully defended themselves against her._

_“This way.” She growled between clenched teeth and opened the door into the rest of the estate._

_“Wait!” Wynne blocked the way with her staff. “Where are you going? We need to take a moment to discuss our route.”_

_“I’ve been here before.” Kallian hissed. “I know where to go.”_

_In her mind, the rest of the day played out like she were not in control of herself, because she could not be. She watched her body run forward, sneak past Howe’s guards and open doors that screamed cruel familiarity. Her hands ushered her companions forward or urged them to stop, while her aching legs dashed, ducked or clambered up support beams to remain out of sight. The estate was larger than Eamon’s, so it took more time to reach the room Anora had been confined to, but she reached it. Of course, the door had been locked, and of course they would have to find it before they could break the Queen free. A magical seal had been placed on the door, preventing them from breaking it down, one of Howe’s tricks. Besides, such a rash action would have alerted every guard in the building to their presence._

_Where else would the arl hide such an important key but his most private room?_

_At first, she just ushered the others inside the bedroom while she remained in the hall, mimicking what Soris had done for her all those months ago. Her body did not explain why she did not enter, she just whispered that someone needed to keep watch while they looked for the key. She refused to peek inside, or even look at the door for longer than she needed. Inside her head, Kallian prayed to the Maker, to Mythal, to anyone who may have been listening to a poor piece of trash like her, to not make her go inside. She felt no shame in reaching out to beings that she knew didn’t exist, because she had literally no other alternative._

_Naturally, that’s when Alistair peeked his head out and informed her that they couldn’t find a key, but that the room did not end where she thought it did. Howe had apparently installed a new entrance to the cellars near the bed, and Leliana figured out that it had been very recently used. They had very little time left to try and catch him and get the key._

_He had to drag her into the bedroom, and her boots squealed against the polished floor as she resisted. Leliana and Wynne gave confused but annoyed looks as they saw the scene, too wrapped up in the stealth and importance of the mission to understand why her body acted that way._

_The room looked exactly the same. The massive bed had not been moved, and was draped by the same heavy curtains she saw had been flecked with Shianni’s blood. They were clean now, but still the same shade. The floor remained polished, and reflected the bodies of the humans with her as she looked down. Wait, did she see the reflections of human bodies, or did she see the ones she killed, still lying in bloody heaps?_

_She looked down as her body raised her hands. They were clean. No, they were drenched in crimson, the remains of Vaughan. Her mouth widened to expose her teeth. If she had any vomit left in her stomach, she would have let it out. Instead, she heaved and grinned. It must have made her look quite disheveled._

_Her lungs took in a breath, and she became overwhelmed by the same musky odor as before. The stench of a human who spent too much time in a place like this, perhaps with people who did not wish to be there with him. If she concentrated, she swore she could smell the trace remnant of Shianni’s sweat and the telltale foulness of exposed innards._

_One of her hands lowered, and grasped the hilt of a dagger._

_“Come on.” Alistair urged as he walked to the back of the room and opened a small heavy door. “Howe is somewhere in here.”_

_She forced her mind to remember why she was here. Aside from capturing Anora, Howe had been the one to seal the alienage. His men had “culled the herd” as he said. She still had no way of knowing if her family lived or died, or how much they suffered while being locked away from the rest of the city. An evil man who made her skin crawl every time she looked at him, she remembered every horrible thing he said to her in their brief meeting. One evil man who lived in this room had been replaced by another. No matter, both would die at her hand._

_Kallian regained control of herself as she descended into the lowest level of the estate, where a large cellar and storage area had been hastily converted into a dungeon. She paid little heed to the torture devices and endless arrays of cells. Nor did she care to linger while her friends broke many of the prisoners free. Some of them promised to join the fight against Loghain and Howe, while many others were just grateful to be let out._

_She stalked forward, remaining in the shadows and in dark corners, invisible to the eyes of the few soldiers and guards who hovered around the disgusting man. He seemed aware of the intrusion into his home, and leaned over a table that contained a map of the estate. In the few bits of conversation she picked up, it seemed he had an ambush planned for when the group pulled Anora off the property._

_Kallian sheathed her dagger and climbed onto the support beams of the cellar. The ceilings were low, so she could not stand up, but still had enough room to grapple and move from beam to beam with little effort. Bathed in darkness and silence, she positioned herself above Howe. She had no idea where her friends were, or even if they would come in time to save her from the guards that ringed the arl._

_It didn’t matter._

_She let go of the plank that supported her as she grabbed her weapons. Less than a second later, she was on the floor, with Howe pinned under her. His kidneys had been impaled by her daggers, and she twisted them as soon as the shock of impact dissipated from her arms._

_Howe’s screams made her smile much like Vaughan’s had._


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really short chapter this time. Writer's block can be a horrible thing. But if you're a returning reader, you might want to check out chapters 5 and 7. They're ENTIRELY new, added along with this short little bit of plodding connective tissue. Sorry for the wait, but I gave 3 chapters instead of one to make up for it!

_Kallian laughed as Howe’s remaining guards pinned her to the ground. In that moment, she did not care about the mission, Anora, Loghain or even the blight. In one violent instant, she had done the impossible. Not one, but two shem noblemen were dead at her hand, both of them killed in their own house! Across the world and into the depths of history, how many other elves could claim such a feat?_

_Besides, without an arl to give orders to the city guards, the gate to the alienage could be opened! Without Howe’s talk of “culling the herd”, maybe her people would be spared further violence. She did not care that forcing him to sign an order at knife-point would have done the same job much faster. Her focus had moved entirely to the human blood that spilled right next to her, the stink of it filling her lungs with every gasping breath._

_Less than a second after the confused human guards reacted and shoved Kallian down, her friends arrived. Arrows, steel and magic flashed in the dungeon’s gloom, cutting the armored men down like wheat, and adding to the pile of death on the floor. The battle ended in the count of three heartbeats, and her friends stood victorious._

_Alistair reached her first and wrapped his armored hand around Kallian’s upper arm. It took no effort for him to lift her back to her feet. “What do you think you’re doing!?” He shouted at whisper volume between clenched teeth. The effort of trying to remain quiet caused his face to turn purple. “You could have gotten yourself killed!”_

_Behind him, Leliana gave a similar upset look. Wynne as well._

_“You wouldn’t understand.” Kallian laughed as her head lolled back like a dead weight. The sudden upwell of mirth and relief that flooded her body made fine muscle control difficult. Her legs felt weak, but she remained upright._

_“Yeah, I really don’t.” Alistair said at full volume before letting her go. “You do realize that you killed our biggest piece of evidence against Loghain, right? We could have brought his daughter before the landsmeet, let her tell her story of being kidnapped, and then brought Howe along to prove it!”_

_Kallian’s expression faded._

_“He wasn’t killing **your** people.” She sneered at him. _

_“No, no he wasn’t.” Alistair sighed as the purple drained from his face. “But we could have publically accused him of that as well. Now we’ll just have to hope the nobles understand that he was working for Loghain, and not acting alone as Arl of Denerim.”_

_“Do I look like I care!?” She hissed back._

_“You should! Do I need to remind you that you’re a Grey Warden!? We have a responsibility to this country, and if you intend to just cut its head off and let us all flounder around and die to the darkspawn, I’d love it if you told me!”_

_Leliana approached and put a comforting hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “Come on, we have the key. Let’s get Anora out of this place.”_

_***_

The tavern erupted with laughter as Kallian recounted the death of Arl Howe. For such a morbid act, ten years of passed time, and the romanticism of the fifth blight, had turned it into a noble deed. Keeran dimly recalled that the murder of two Ferelden Arls within the span of a year, both in the same house, had caused a small amount of gossip to waft over his family’s estate and over much of the free marches. For some reason, the idea that the Hero of Ferelden had been involved with both killings didn’t click with anyone until long after the blight, when her fame and reputation kept anyone from questioning her motives or demanding justice. Even Howe’s surviving son, a man named Nathaniel, refused to entreaty King Alistair for reparations. But then, rumors said the younger Howe had been made a Grey Warden at her order. Perhaps he had been silenced by the shady organization.

“Oh man, tell me you fought your way out of there!” Iron Bull said as he slapped his meaty hand on the table. “That would be the _perfect_ way to end it!” Sera, her chin resting on her palms, nodded in abject agreement.

The warden and Leliana spared a glance. She took a nervous drink before replying. “Actually… we surrendered.”

“What!?” Sera shouted before anyone else could express their disbelief.

“Well, Alistair surrendered. He figured that I had caused a big enough mess by killing Howe, and if we murdered our way out, that we’d give Loghain more ammunition to use against us. The soldiers assumed, since he was human, that he made all the decisions for the two of us, so we were both… arrested.”

“That’s completely stupid!” The other elf said with an exuberant display of her displeasure. “Why didn’t you slap Kingy-stair and stab your way out?”

“I thought about it.” Kallian admitted. “But…”

“They made the right decision.” Leliana added, which quieted the growing clamor.

Bull scoffed as he leaned back in his chair. “Right decision or no, that ending sucked.”

“But that wasn’t the ending, right?” Sera asked. “You gotta tell us the rest of it! What about the archdemon?”

“Don’t you know anything about history?” One of Bull’s mercenaries, the dwarf, asked, “Better yet, weren’t you _actually there_ when all this happened?”

Sera responded with a rude sound from her mouth and an even ruder gesture. “Don’t matter what I know or not. I wanna hear it.”

“Yeah, skip ahead a little.” Bull said with a brightening expression, which caused his group to join in with encouragement.

For some reason, where the warden had been welcoming and full of stories just moments before, Bull and Sera’s words made her grow distant and uncomfortable. Leliana noticed the change a moment after Keeran, and placed her hand over the warden’s. Unfortunately, the other merry-makers did not seem to notice or care.

“Tell us, warden!”

“How many other shems did you kill?”

“Get to the next fight!”

Each time someone spoke to the Hero of Ferelden, the worse her visible mood became, until she stood up and, without looking at anyone, mumbled “I’m sorry, I need to go.” and stormed out of the tavern’s main door. Her eyes never reached higher than her feet, and her back slumped deeper than a person stuck in prayer.

Keeran stood up after her, but a thick hand clapped down on his shoulder.

“Let her go, boss.” Bull said with a somber tone of his own. “I recognize that look. We pushed her into a place she doesn’t want to be.”

“I see that.” From what he had been told the night before, the Inquisitor had an idea of what might have flashed in the warden’s eyes as she recalled those ten-year-old memories. If something could frazzle a warden as experienced as her, it must have been horrific.

“I’ll apologize later, after she cools off.” The Qunari added, his tone rising to try and break the curse of the dour mood.

“Send her a fruit basket. That always cheers people up.” Keeran added, echoing words he heard once before.  

With such a sudden end to the story, Bull’s group fell apart, each member of the Chargers going their separate ways. The Inquisitor did the same, and though he had no intention of directly following Kallian around the castle, he still retraced her footsteps back into Skyhold’s courtyard. The sun had journeyed a considerable distance since he entered the Herald’s Rest, but there was still plenty of light for him to see the entirety of the castle. No chance of getting lost, or of running into someone who didn’t want to be found.  

“She flickers like a dying candle.” Cole’s gentle voice flitted as if from nowhere. “She can feel it clawing at her from the inside, choking her like Vaughan’s hand around her neck.”

Long experienced with the spirit’s strange entrances, Keeran didn’t turn to face Cole, nor did he express any shock at the sudden vocal intrusion. A moment later, a pale boy with a strange wide hat appeared at the Inquisitor’s side. “Every day, she remembers what she did, and how she got here. She carries the hurts with her, because she’s afraid she’ll lose herself if she forgets.”

“You don’t need to read minds to know something’s bothering her.” Keeran said, again without confirming that Cole indeed spoke about the famous warden. They tended to only speak about people relevant to his state of mind.

“She failed everyone. At home, in the hearth and in the heart. She’s reached the point where she became what she is afraid of, and she hates it.”

“That… doesn’t make sense.”

“Not now. Then.” Cole answered with as much exasperation as his strange voice could convey. “Her mind is stuck then, and the stories are making it even more stuck. They help her forget the fear of the now, but they also remind her of the pain of then. She is caught in between.”

“Can you help?” Keeran asked, his eyes still scanning the inhabitants and battlements of Skyhold.

“I can make her forget. But forgetting will change her into something she does not wish to be. If I helped, I would hurt her more.”

“Can anyone help?”

Cole’s distant eyes sunk deeper. “I hope so. The Left Hand moves her fingers up, then strokes down. She says it makes them twitch, but she doesn’t believe.”

Keeran smiled, remembering what he saw when he first approached Leliana and Kallian in the rookery.

He’d give them some time alone, then ask if there was anything he could do.


	20. Chapter 20

Keeran expected to not see the Hero of Ferelden for the rest of the day. Hell, he half-heartedly told himself that she might have already left the castle in a fit of emotion after her last outburst. It would suit Leliana perfectly, no doubt, to have someone so close to her leave as if they magically disappeared. It would do wonders to avoid any prying eyes and whispering tongues, and keep her personal affairs frustratingly cryptic.

Still making sure to avoid the small town that Skyhold’s courtyard had become, Keeran made his way back to the great hall of the castle, where dozens of people lined up to gawk at the seat of the Inquisition’s power. Inquisitor Trevelyan made a small show for a group of children in the crowd by showing off his glowing hand and miming a few of the sword forms he used when fighting demons. He even made a joke about how the children should all behave themselves, or the Inquisition would come after them next. It fell rather flat, but a few people chuckled with empty, yet polite, grace.

With no work left to do, and no pressing issues demanding his presence in the rest of the castle, Keeran made his way back to his chambers. Thoughts of Dorian flitted into his mind as he once again imagined how Kallian might have disappeared from the castle, putting distance between herself and Leliana, just like he and Dorian now shared unconquerable space apart. Not too long ago, he would have been ignorant of the pain that lurked in his spymaster’s heart during the fight against Corypheus, and the knife-twisting agony it left every moment. But now he had some idea, thanks to the empty feeling that lurked inside of him.

Keeran forced a smile as he passed his throne and undid the heavy lock on the door beyond it, giving him a full view of the massive staircase that twisted upward and into his bedroom. He recalled some of Kallian’s tales, and then wondered how Dorian might have responded to them. How might the Tevinter noble react to the gory details of Arl Howe’s death? Would he have shown bawdy and lewd respect for those moments when Kallian shared intimate details? Would he have demanded she expand on those details? (Probably) Could he have convinced the elf to speak of other adventures, or talked about other things that Keeran would never think to ask?

Lost in wistful wonderings of “what if”, the Inquisitor kept his head low as he took one step up toward his chambers.

“Oh…” Kallian Tabris said as she stood up right in front of the Inquisitor. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“This is my room.” Keeran said with a flat tone, still processing the elf that filled his view. “Well, sort of.” He paused. “How did you…? I always keep it locked.” He turned his head to indicate the lock he had literally just unlatched. 

The warden held up her right hand, where a set of lockpick tools dangled from a small chain of metal. “I didn’t think anyone used that door.”

“Yeah, because it’s mine.”

The warden put her lockpick away and took a step toward the Inquisitor, intent on leaving. “I’m sorry. I’ll just…”

She brushed past him, which caused Keeran to turn around.

“Wait.” He took a breath as Cole’s last words to him echoed in his mind. As did the memories of Dorian and his possible reactions to Kallian’s story. “Do you… wanna come up to my chambers?” He asked as delicately as he could.

A smirk crossed the dour elf’s face. “I’ve heard worse pickup lines. And besides, I don’t think Leliana would approve.”

“Oh, no, not like that.” He said as he realized how he sounded. His cheeks burned as he balked. “I just… I saw how much the guys in the tavern rattled you. I figure if you need a quiet place to vent, there’s nowhere better than a room no one can access. If you’re avoiding Leliana, I can guess that this is some serious shit.”

Kallian looked up at him. “I’ve also heard _that_ before.”

The Inquisitor grinned and swept his hands to the side in an inviting gesture, allowing the warden to step forward and accept his invitation. After a moment of hesitation, she did so.

The two of them marched up the stone staircase in verbal silence. The elf made very little noise as she took graceful steps up. Keeran plodded along like he normally did.

Just before they reached the final door before his private quarters, the Hero of Ferelden stopped and rubbed one hand against her shoulder.

“I hate that part of the story.” She said as if confessing in a chantry.

“What was that?” The Inquisitor said as he unlatched the door and beckoned the warden inside. She hesitated a moment before accepting, still locked in her tentative and unsure posture.

“It’s just… I did things… I lost…” Kallian’s thoughts drifted off as she stepped into Keeran’s room, not only struck with the opulence, but still floundering in whatever mental anguish that haunted her. The things that Cole could see but no one else.

“It’s okay.” He said as he took a step inside and offered the elf a seat on one of his many stuffed chairs. “I think I can relate to some of that feeling of uncertainty.”

She sat down, but did not stop glancing around and drifting off. Once she had gotten a good look of the room’s layout, her gaze drifted to her feet and locked there.

Keeran continued as he walked over to the fireplace, full of dull embers that glowed blood orange, and put his left hand over the residual head. “I should never have been given… this.” With a thought, his hand began to glow. With another, he let the light drift away. “I still don’t know what it really is, or how I use it. And all those people out there, wouldn’t it kill them to know that their Lord Inquisitor is just a boy from Ostwick who refused to grow up? I’m not their savior, I’m just a man who happened to be in the wrong place.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t…” she drifted off again.

“Kill anyone?” Keeran turned to face the warden. “On that throne, I’ve sent good people to their deaths, told monsters that they get to live, and decided the fate of thousands of people. Who am I to have done all that? I did nothing in my youth but spend my parent’s money and disgrace the name of Trevelyan. And now here I am, the most powerful man in the world with nothing to show for it. Nothing I _want_ to show, anyway.” He stopped talking as more images of Dorian flashed in his mind. “I never deserved this power, and I don’t know why they keep giving it to me.”

“I think you just explained why they do.” Kallian said as she finally looked up. She didn’t smile, but Keeran knew some of his words had an effect.

She sighed and pulled her head up. After a moment, she spoke with much the same tone of voice she had used in the rookery before, when telling her story. “Alistair and I were… imprisoned. Fort Drakon. Ever heard of it?”

The Inquisitor took a seat next to the warden. “No, I don’t think so. Is that still in Denerim?”

“Yeah, it is.” Kallian sighed and swallowed a lump of saliva before continuing. “It was humiliating. The guards that… took my equipment weren’t gentle. They didn’t harm either of us, orders from Loghain to keep us alive and healthy. But that didn’t mean they were free from stripping us, making us walk through their fortress top to bottom, and then locking us in their deepest cell. The things they said to us while we marched, trying to keep our heads high…”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. They thought they were right and we were wrong. And all they did was make me angry. Alistair on the other hand… he urged me to keep calm. He knew that our friends wouldn’t stand for us rotting in a cell when we were so close to removing Loghain from power. And he was right.”

 

***

 

_If it hadn’t been for their shared nakedness, Kallian would have been climbing the walls of the cell, snarling against the bars, and causing hell for any human that walked by. She didn’t care if the guards saw her body. If anything, it would distract them while she grabbed for their weapons and slit their throats. But with Alistair next to her, keeping his poise dignified and calm, all things considered, she managed to keep her feral instincts in check._

_Instead, she sat curled against a corner, as far away from the bars as she could, legs pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her knees, hiding everything she could from the world. Alistair did much the same, sitting across from her in the opposite corner, but with an air of dignity that she didn’t share._

_The cell reeked of urine and spoiled food, the remains of the last prisoner left forgotten in this damp hole. Fortunately, any bones or rotting flesh had been removed from their little space before the wardens were shoved in, probably to stop them from getting sick before their trial. And double fortunate, the dozens of torches and candles that kept the dungeon lit gave off their own choking odor of smoke and soot, which helped ease some of the unpleasantness with its own malodorous haze._

_And the screams… the screams were as plenty as they were horrifying. Enemies to the crown, criminals, traitors, and the mad shared the fort’s dungeons with the two Wardens. Loghain’s torturers worked day and night, seeking out Orlesian spies and others who might undermine his power. And the regular guards, upset over having such dismal duty, often beat unruly prisoners until unconsciousness took them. But before that, the noises they made rattled Kallian to the core._

_Neither Kallian nor Alistair said much of anything since they had been paraded away from Howe’s estate under full guard. Anything they might have said would have been used against them, they knew that. And if they said what they truly wanted, they might have been executed on the spot for treason against the regent. Some of the soldiers, when they whispered about what Kallian did to the arl, even conspired to get some “revenge” before they were done, and leered down at her._

_She had no idea how long it had been since the guards left them in the cell. No more than a day. But without any way to measure time beyond the regular screaming of a nearby prisoner, she could not be sure the exact time._

_In one of the brief moments of silence, Alistair cleared his throat and adjusted his position on the cold, filthy stone floor._

_“I’m going to leave some very unfavorable comments in this place’s guestbook next time we visit.”_

_Despite herself, Kallian looked up and started at Alistair in mute confusion._

_“The service has just been terrible.” He continued. “I mean, we haven’t had a single torturer even ask if we were doing okay, you know? What’s the point of a dungeon if you’re not going to torment your prisoners? And aren’t we supposed to get complimentary shackles? What about chains? I swear, this whole place is just asking for a negative review.”_

_Despite herself, Kallian allowed herself to smile. The sheer absurdity of his words broke through her dark thoughts._

_“There’s a smile.” Alistair said as he noticed the slight upturn in her lips. He returned the grin._

_Kallian’s expression dimmed as soon as she realized what had happened, though not out of malice. Instead, uncertainty and anxiety welled up in her stomach. She returned her head to its relaxed position on her bare knees._

_“How do you do it?” She asked._

_“Do what?”_

_Kallian paused and let her thought collect before speaking. For a moment, their screaming friend resumed his cacophony. As soon as it ended, she spoke again. “Just… be you. No matter what’s happened since we met, you’ve kept your head up. How do you keep seeing the good in everything when the world won’t stop taking it away from you?”_

_“Someone has to.”_

_“No, I mean…” Kallian paused and let a few painful memories flit by in her mind. “Even at the beginning, after Ostagar. I was so angry. I took it out on you, on Morrigan, even Leliana. You didn’t deserve it, but I was just lost in my hatred. But you kept finding your way through the dark. You kept things light when they shouldn’t have been.”_

_“Well, I think you’ve more than made up with Leliana, if you know what I mean.” He grinned again and raised an eyebrow. After the joke fell flat, he cleared his throat and kept speaking. “I think it would drive me crazy trying to remain serious all the time. Not that I’m a paragon of sanity or anything, seeing as I’ve made a lifelong commitment to fight darkspawn and die in battle one say. But if I don’t try to see the light, then I’m afraid no one will.”_

_“I’ve tried.” Kallian whispered._

_“I know. I’ve seen it. Back at Ostagar, I never would have imagined that tiny, angry elf would ever put her life on the line for a human. I certainly never expected her to laugh, to, ahem, find someone, or even step up and be a leader. And yet here you are, with me, because we made a choice.”_

_“Did we do the right thing?”_

_Alistair’s mirthful grin turned into one of satisfaction and contentment. “I think we did. We showed Loghain’s men that we aren’t the animals he thinks we are. Maybe we’ve swayed a few people to our side.”_

_Kallian lifted her head and rested it against the cold stone behind her. Her elven ears, large as they were, scraped against it before her scalp. “So what do we do now?”_

_“Well.” Alistair said. He stretched the word out as he concentrated. “What do we have at our disposal?”_

_“Not much.”_

_“Well I can think of a couple things, but they depend on exactly how our jailers swing. If you catch my drift.” His eyes glanced downward, to both her and himself._

_Kallian smiled again. “Is that what we’ve been reduced to?”_

_“Hey, you’re the one who asked for ideas. Besides, Duncan always said to use every resource at our disposal.”_

_“I don’t think…”_

_“Yeah, I’m not comfortable with it, either.” He cut her off before she could continue._

_“Anything else?”_

_The screaming inmate began again, letting out a hellish yelp that must have torn his throat to shreds. As soon as he stopped, Alistair spoke. “Maybe we join the choir?”_

_“In there!” a voice rang out through the dark cells, made by a voice choked by urgency and conviction. The slight Orlesian tilt to the words made it clear who spoke them._

_“Leliana?” Kallian whispered as she stood up and took a hopeful step toward the door._

_From a side door she could barely see, it seemed as if an angel of the Maker himself approached Kallian. The bright lights from the corridors beyond filtered into the cellblock, giving a powerful radiance to the armor-clad woman who ran to the cell. A trickle of blood fell from Leliana’s temple, and her quiver held a mere handful of arrows, a sign that her entry into this prison had not been smooth._

_“Move quickly!” Morrigan hissed from the door, her staff held at the ready and magic crackling around her. “More are coming!”_

_“Kallian!” Leliana exclaimed as she reached the cell and wrapped her fingers around the bars. Her eyes widened as she gazed at Kallian, and hints of tears dripped down her cheeks as she fumbled forward. “Thank the maker!”_

_Kallian’s heart thundered in her chest and she stood reunited, and for a moment, she forgot her lack of clothes._

_Until Alistair cleared his throat._

_“Please tell me you also have the key to the equipment closet.”_


	21. Chapter 21

_3 days later._

_An invisible hand clawed at the muscles inside Kallian’s chest, squeezing and tearing her heart like the darkspawn in the forest had done. Her lungs felt aflame as well, struggling to pull in tiny puffs of air as the elf bounded forward on shaking legs. Her vision remained just clear enough to avoid humans, dwarves, and elves in her way, but she saw no detail in them. Excited tears fell wantonly down her cheeks as she rushed back toward the alienage gate._

_The party had returned to Eamon’s estate under cover of darkness, and used Kallian’s intimate knowledge of Denerim’s streets to avoid the more obvious places they might have been spotted. Fortunately, their single day of confinement, humiliating as it was, left the two wardens no worse for wear, and they were more than ready to enact the next step in ousting Loghain from power. His daughter, Anora, promised to lend aid in the effort. She was less than pleased with the idea of making Alistair king, but she also knew she had little choice in the matter._

_But none of that mattered to Kallian. Not at all._

_In the time she had been away from the noble, Eamon made good on his word to allow her back into her home. The death of Arl Howe had created an uneasy vacuum of power among the shems, and the full rule of Denerim fell on shaky hands. Into that void, Eamon leveraged his power to override Howe’s order to keep the alienage shut off, but only because dark rumors had started to come from the place. He promised his rich human friends that he would put an end to those whispers, and return everyone’s full concentration toward the darkspawn. A serious boon in such an uncertain time._

_Kallian’s right hand squeezed Leliana’s, their fingers interlocked, as they jogged together through Denerim’s market. The elf’s joy and uncertainty seemed to resonate through the human, and indeed it seemed, through the rest of the city. Where the sun should have shone bright and clear, even on such a cold day, it seemed to give muted light and a grey pallor over a bleak world. Howe’s words of “culling the herd” still echoed in Kallian’s mind long after she put the speaker to death. A part of her clung to those hateful words and terrible rumors, afraid of what she would encounter when she crossed the threshold._

_But another part, a more powerful one, told another story. Something inside Kallian could only see her home the way it used to be. Not healthy, because the alienage was never healthy, but whole. Just like it had been on the day she left with Duncan, frozen in time as if nothing had happened in the interim. In her mind’s eye, she saw exactly where her old friends and acquaintances stood and lived, selling their wares or living their lives. In those memories, she knew the way each humble house leaned as its shoddy wood rotted and reformed, she could count the paint chips that flaked off the baker’s shop, she could even see Shianni, standing tall and proud, lecturing an errant child or chastising Soris for some minor thing. Whatever scars had been left behind by Vaughan were long healed, and put behind her._

_Kallian knew those pleasant images were coming from the new side of her, the one that had emerged after so many months of traveling with her companions. They showed her how to hope, and they taught her how to see the light in the darkness. If she believed that things weren’t as bad as Howe said, then just maybe, it would be reality._

_“Slow down!” Alistair shouted from somewhere behind the scampering elf and bard. Further still behind him, Wynne had stopped and put a hand on her knee, desperate to catch her breath. “It’s not like the alienage is going anywhere!”_

_The gate, open and inviting, taunted Kallian as she glanced toward it. The guard who so callously blocked her way before was nowhere to be seen, nor did any other humans try to block it. Although from the angle she stood at, the only thing she could see beyond the unlocked portal was the small bridge that connected the two parts of Denerim. She couldn’t tell if elves stood on the opposite side, keeping the way clear._

_Leliana added her agreement to slow down by tugging back on Kallian’s arm. After a moment, the elf complied. Though the two of them remained surrounded by hundreds, maybe thousands, of people shopping and milling about, it felt as if none of them existed. To her, they were as ghosts, and the only things that were real were her, Leliana, her friends, and the gate._

_“So, I finally get to see your home long after you saw mine.” Leliana said as the two of them waited for the Templar and mage to catch up. Kallian took in long, cleansing gulps of air as the inferno in her lungs calmed down._

_Kallian looked up at the human. “Wait, when did I see your house?”_

_“Lothering, silly. The chantry.”_

_“Oh.”_

_Leliana grinned. “You must show me everything when we go in. You’ve spoken so much of your family, I want to see it all.”_

_More images flashed in her mind, causing Kallian’s cheek to flush red and her stomach to sink in her belly. She saw herself leading Leliana around the familiar houses, shops, and sights of the small community, the two of them draped on each other’s arms like they were in Orzammar all those weeks ago. But at the same time, she also saw the judgmental stares and cruel whispers from elves who would brand her for chasing a shem. She imagined how she would introduce Leliana to her father, then saw his wave of disappointment for her total disregard for tradition. She saw herself standing between a recovered and healthy Shianni and a smiling Leliana, then seeing her cousin’s face twist in disgust._

_“Oh, it won’t be so bad.” Leliana said as she let go of Kallian’s hand and turned toward the open gate. “I can see how much you’re worried.”_

_“Is it that obvious?”_

_“The darkspawn are subtle compared to you.” The bard teased and winked as the other two human companions caught up._

_Alistair huffed much like he had the last time he bounded through the market, and wheezed as he took the chance to stop and catch his breath. His armor clanked and scraped against itself and the cobblestone street, causing a massive ruckus as he slowed down. Wynne held her composure, but sweat beaded heavily on her brow as she caught up with the other._

_“Why is it…” Alistair wheezed, “Every time… I go near this gate… I’m out of breath?”_

_Wynne did not share the Templar’s joviality. “Don’t let your guard down, Kallian. Arl Howe said some dark things about this place, and many of the nobles shared his sentiment.”_

_“I know.” Kallian nodded and steeled her expression. “Let’s go.”_

_Whatever awaited her, Kallian held onto the hope Leliana had given her. Surely, it couldn’t be as bad as she feared._

_***_

_Shems._

_So many shems._

_In her home._

_Rampaging through houses, pulling elves out of doors and shoving them into the meager open spaces. Buildings smoldered and crumbled, left empty and rotting by whatever violence had claimed them. Blood filled the streets, as did the corpses and remains of so many dead and dying._

_Kallian gasped and heaved, but she remained on her feet. Her heart turned to ice as she gazed upon the scorch marks, the scars, the hopelessness, and the degradation of the alienage._

_Human men in armor and robes paraded about the center of the elven settlement, lording over elves arranged into two long queues that stretched past a shoddy alleyway and out of sight. Those elves snatched out of their homes were shoved into those queues, and forced to stand and wait for whatever awaited them at the head of the line. The humans paid no attention to who stood where, and often separated husbands from wives, children from their parents. The wails and sobs of the downtrodden elves sliced into Kallian’s ears and into her soul._

_“Be gentle with these men! We are here to help you!” a magically-enhanced voice said from somewhere in the alienage, probably near the table that marked the head of the column of elves. A half dozen humans in armor surrounded that area, their weapons pointed at the elves they were supposedly aiding._

_“Oh, you’re ‘helping us’, are you, shem?” A powerful and familiar voice cut through the human’s, a voice that culled Kallian’s apprehension like a honed knife._

_And then there she stood, Shianni, defiant and proud, near the edge of the human barricade. Her face had gone red from shouting, and her eyes looked bloodshot and fierce. She had been fighting them. “Like Valendrian and Uncle Cyrion, you helped them, didn’t you? Helped them never to be seen again!”_

_The pride that welled inside Kallian fizzled and died._

_Cyrion?_

_No…_

_Please, no._

_“Papa.” Kallian said to herself and broke away from the group. She sprinted until her legs burned and the phantom remains of the injury in her left thigh complained. Some of the rampaging humans tried to grab her, but she slinked away from their gauntlets. If they gave chase, she knew her companions would stop them. Her boots crunched over familiar stone and unfamiliar ruin, and she had to leap over the carrion remains of a dog, but all too soon, Kallian stood before her cousin. All thoughts and memories of Shianni laying broken on the ground flitted away as she concentrated what she had just said. Yes, it was wonderful to see the other elf on her feet, capable of speaking and clearly past her trauma, but a new one gripped Kallian and refused to let go._

_“Shianni, where is he!?”_

_“Maker’s breath!” Shianni exclaimed as she turned around and beheld Kallian. For a moment, her cousin looked her up and down, marveling at the shiny armor, large dagger at her belt, and the three humans approaching behind her. It took far too many precious seconds for Shianni to come up with new words, each long pause causing Kallian’s heart to thud faster and faster. “They… they said all the grey wardens died. Everyone thought… Valendrian… we had a funeral for you.” Her words came out weak, but not the same kind of weakness she had in Vaughan’s home. Tears welled in Shianni’s eyes as she realized that Kallian really stood before her._

_“I’m here,” was all she managed to say before she embraced her cousin as tight as she could. Her heart continued to race, but she would not be denied this moment. But only a moment._

_Shianni returned the hug with equal fervor and passion, and Kallian could feel her cousin tremble as she did so. “Cousin, I knew you’d come home.”_

_Kallian nodded and let her own tears fall onto Shianni’s shoulder. “I said I would.” She could not let herself be distracted for long._

_“Where is my father?” The warden asked as she pulled away._

_“They… these Tevinters quarantined him yesterday. I told him not to go to the hospice! Not one elf they’ve taken in there has come out again!”_

_“Hospice?”_

_“That’s what they’re calling it. Ever since people started getting sick, these men from Tevinter came in and said they had a cure… but I’ve never seen anyone walk out of there.”_

_Kallian looked away from her cousin, and locked eyes with one of the men sitting at the front of the massive line of elves._

_Howe had said that he was “culling the herd”._

_And if no one came out from their “hospice”…_

_Fucking. Shems._

_Kallian felt herself turning away from Shianni._

_Her blade came free and she held it aloft, ready to strike._

_“Kallian, wait!” Not only did her cousin shriek the words, but her companions as well._

_Fuck them. They were shems too._

_Her cousin’s slender hand tried to grasp Kallian’s shoulder, but she slithered away._

_The only thing that mattered was her father had been taken by humans, not unlike how Shianni had been taken away and brutalized._

_Never again._

_No more elves would suffer at the hands of a human, not while she lived._

_The grey world went red._

_An armored gauntlet reached for Kallian’s dagger, but she sidestepped and slashed at it. Alistair parried with his shield, and looked at her with wide, horrified eyes. She had a job to do. She kneed him between his long human legs, where she knew he would be most vulnerable. Alistair collapsed and doubled over, more from shock than injury. Wynne was upon him a moment later, her hands aglow with healing magic._

_Leliana did not try hold her down, but instead moved to stand in Kallian’s way, using all her graceful bardic skills to get ahead of the elf._

_“Don’t do this. Not again. Not after Howe.” The Orlesian shem said with her usual ‘calm Kallian down’ voice, full of soothing tones and singsong lilting. “Let’s question them first. Gather evidence. We can use it against Loghain in the…”_

_Didn’t they understand HER FATHER was in there?_

_“Get out of my way.” Kallian managed to say through teeth that grinded against themselves. Shems never understood anything._

_“Kallian, look at yourself. You’re going to get yourself killed! Don’t do that to yourself. To me!”_

_“I said…” The elf let her offhand fist fly and hit Leliana in the jaw. “Out.”_

_“Of.” She took a step forward as her lover collapsed to the ground._

_“My.”  The red haired human hit the dry earth of the alienage and held her face with her leather-clad hand._

_“Way.” The shem, that’s what she was, stared upward at Kallian, her muscles trembling._

_“Fucking shem.” She spat down at Leliana before breaking into another sprint. The armored Tevinter man she targeted never saw her coming, and died screaming as her dagger pierced through his back and into his heart. The effort of plunging the dagger into him strained her hand, but the agony was worth it._

_She leapt off his body like she had done hundreds of times before, and landed next to another soldier. Her weapon found his throat before he could make any noise at all._

_Elves all around her shouted in panic and excitement. Many of them ran away from the sudden violence. Good. She hoped they would find shelter. The humans would have none._

_“Maintain order!” The leader of the shems, a man in heavy silk robes, stood up from his seat near the ‘hospice’. Kallian looked up at him through a blood haze, and bared her teeth. “Stop that elf!”_

_She didn’t know how long it took to reach him, she just knew the telltale feeling of sinking her weapon into the gut of a human man, and relished it. The way his skin pulled against her blade. The scent of his innards as they were sliced open. The sound of blood gushing onto the ground below. She loved it._

_Addicting._

_Behind her, faint voices cried out for her to stop, pleading with her last vestiges of sanity, but she paid them no heed. They were the voices of humans, and below her notice._

_Another armored Tevinter human attacked with a spear, but Kallian dodged just enough for the blade to slide down her armored chest. The sharpened blade of the weapon continued to move, slicing into her armor and through the skin of her right arm, but she didn’t pay attention to it. As her blue padded armor turned black from her own blood, Kallian retaliated by grabbing the haft of the weapon and pulled it toward herself. In that moment of confusion, she lashed forward and thrust the tip of her dagger into the open face place of the human’s helmet. The tip of her weapon bounced against the back of the helmet as she ran through the human’s skull._

_Her arm throbbed and her toes wrenched as she kicked the door of the “hospice” open, but she didn’t care. Instead, she reached up and slit the throat of the guard standing behind it. Another Tevinter tried flanking her and slashed his sword into her thigh, but her Grey Warden armor deflected it. She ended his life after pulling her weapon free of the first man’s neck and plunging it between the plates in his armpit. Human lifeblood spurted onto her, joining the river that flowed from her arm, and soaking her blue and silver armor through. Her hair matted against her skull as it became soaked with crimson._

_The orgy of violence continued for an eternity to Kallian, but a blissful eternity. Every time a human weapon gashed her body, sliced her armor, or added a new bruise to her long list of injuries, she responded ten times in kind. The train of gore left behind her could fill the entire alienage, and she intended to add more human entrails to the pile. Tevinters of all kind, armored and unarmored, determined and afraid, man and woman, they all died at her blade. They were humans in her home, and humans in her home deserved to die._

_Now and then, she’d pass through a home with a mirror, and she’d catch glimpses of herself, and the gore-covered wraith she had become. She no longer resembled the elf who left this place months ago, nor did she look like the Grey Warden that had returned. No. She had become an avatar of vengeance, bleeding and bloody. It brought her back to those moments at Vaughan’s side as she watched him die. She bared her teeth to him, she remembered that. And now she bared her teeth to herself, a line of white against a sea of red._

_In one such moment, Kallian raised her weapon, turned deep red by the human viscera that covered it, and licked the blade clean. Human blood, guts, gristle and meat, raw and oozing, slid down her throat._

_She loved it._

_She savored the taste of her violence._

_Finally, she saw the tide of humans disperse, and she kicked down one last door, a warehouse built on the edge of the alienage. A place she knew from childhood used to contain several secret entrances and exits to the place. Smugglers used the halls and tunnels to move things into and out of the city, away from the notice of the guards. Many elves were paid well to look away from such people. And sometimes, elves were taken from this place never to be seen again._

**Of course** _this is where the Tevinters would hide._

_If any of them tried to speak with her, to surrender or perhaps attempt a bargain, she did not listen. Her ears, cut and scraped, bleeding and dripping human blood, heard nothing but the cries of shemlen as they died. She was too fast for them, too small and nimble, too well-trained by the crucible of endless battle against darkspawn. For their part, they had grown fat and lazy, complacent as unarmored and sick elves were too brutalized to put up a fight. Any of her people that had tried to fight them off were no doubt long dead, perhaps left as some of the rotting bodies she stepped over to reach her cousin._

_Soon, the humans were all dead or left to bleed out on the ground, weakened and crippled. Perfect fodder for her people to come by later and exact their own revenge. She had seen enough in the first few seconds of her entrance to know that many of her kind would seek bloody vengeance, they had just been too frightened, sick or hopeless to try. She had shown them the way._

_She looked up from the corpse of her final victim. And saw her father in a cage._

_Kallian didn’t try to find the key, nor did she wait to hear anything he had to say as he cowered away from her, afraid for his own life in the face of such a bloody manifestation of elven anger. Instead, she raised her bloody dagger one last time and struck the lock that kept his cage door shut. She hit it again and again, ignoring the fresh gouts of blood that came from her injuries and the agony that clawed out of her sore muscles. CLANG CLANG CLANG!_

_She started to scream as the lock remained stubbornly in place. She screamed loud and hard enough for Cyrion to cover his ears and slink further away from his daughter. She screamed until blood flew past her lips, though she knew none of it was hers. She screamed for the indignity of keeping her father like an animal. She screamed for the memory of what humans had done to her and her people for so many years. She screamed for failing to save Shianni. She screamed for her mother.  
_

_CLANG!_

_And then a soft click, and a clatter of metal as her ruined dagger fell apart. But so did the lock._

_She dropped it, then fell to her knees among the pile of ruined metal._

_“Papa.” She whispered as tears began to wash away the red on her cheeks._


	22. Chapter 22

If the all-powerful Inquisitor hadn’t been sitting down when he heard the Hero of Ferelden recite her latest story, he would have lost control of his legs. Until that point, the violence and pain had been understandable. The rage of an elf lost in a human’s world, facing the worst darkness the world had ever known, had manifested in ways Keeran could sympathize with, or rationalize as acceptable, given her general attitude and outlook on life. And yet, none of it had been in vain.

Through her tale, he had seen Kallian grow from a near-feral creature, consumed by the worst parts of her rage, to a woman who more than deserved the few embers of light that clung to her. Leliana’s presence at her side, the warmth of her burgeoning friendships, and the shedding of her hatred to become someone better, were all well-deserved rewards for a journey so hard and fraught with peril.

And then the alienage happened. The full gory details of Kallian’s willing descent back into that pit of fire and blood inside her mind horrified the Inquisitor. Not just the fact that she attacked her friends, resorting to blatantly attacking them when they put up meager resistance, but the full gleeful joy she took in the slaughter of the Tevinters. The idea that she so purposefully and willingly sunk backward put him on edge.

The more she spoke, the more Keeran reminisced back to his first real fight with Dorian. It was a day not unlike this, down in Skyhold’s library. The two of them had been drinking, as they often did together, and gotten into a debate on the merits of slavery. To him, the moniker of ‘slave’ was just an ancient legal formality that meant nothing more than boring tax forms and revenue calculations. Dorian argued that slaves in his home were more often treated like valued employees, if not treasured family members, rather than the degraded laborers most southerners imagined.

In Dorian’s eyes, such lowly creatures were common in the south, among the alienages and poorhouses of the big cities. Sure, city elves and non-working destitute were not called slaves, but they existed at the whims of their wealthy human “betters”, were often forced into back-breaking labor for almost no benefit, and lived in absolutely squalid conditions.

Keeran rebutted with equal fire, saying how slavery was an evil practice, and that Dorian was highly disconnected from the world if he thought all slaves everywhere were treated as well as he said they were. Only in hindsight did Keeran realize the irony of one obscenely wealthy scion of a noble house lecturing another about the evils of a practice neither of them would have ever been subject to.

Right in front of him, stood a living example of the real answer to both rich boy’s arguments. A woman who watched her own family subjected to Tevinter cruelty, and responded with cruelty of her own. Cruelty to the point of savoring the literal flavor of her violence, _licking_ her blade clean, rather than finding a cloth or replacement weapon. Keeran had trained in the arts of the reaver in his time at Skyhold, and vividly remembered the awful taste and burning sensation of forcing dragon blood down his throat. The idea of doing the same with human…

He did not know if it was a stroke of fortune or misfortune when Kallian stopped talking and broke down into wracking sobs. The full depth of her failure had now been exposed to him, Bull and Cole’s words ringing louder than ever in his mind’s eye. This was something she had not dredged up in a long time, and paid the price for it.

The Inquisitor put a wary hand on the warden’s shoulder and leaned down to her eye level, where she had buried her face in her hands.

“Do… do you need me to get Leliana?”

She did not reply with words, but nodded her head in affirmative. Kallian’s long black hair bobbed and warbled with the jarring head movements.

Keeran felt a twinge of apprehension tingle on his spine as he left the weeping elf alone in his chambers, but he forced it down. What could she do to his private quarters while he was away? Get tear stains on his bedsheets? None of the paperwork on his desk was up to date, having fallen far behind without Dorian around to provide support and feedback during those long, boring hours spent reading the endless reports and letters. And that was if she could find anything in the mess he left behind.

The journey down his sequestered staircase, through the main hall, then back up to the rookery winded the Inquisitor more than he thought it would. In the recent past, he could have run from one end of a desert to the other without losing stride. Had it really been so long since he was last in the field? He vowed to fix that.

In the rookery, the Inquisition’s spymaster was finishing a briefing with a handful of her agents. Leliana paced before her fellow hooded spies with her hands clasped in front of her almost in prayer, but she held a knife between her delicate gloved fingers. They spoke in Orlesian to each other, but never said more than a few words back and forth to Leliana before going quiet.

Keeran stopped and watched for a moment, fascinated by this mundane view of his organization, and stood near the stairwell in silence as the meeting finished. Not long after he arrived, Leliana said one last, official-sounding proclamation, and waved her subordinates off. Many of them walked down the very stairs the Inquisitor stood beside, and gave him various nods and bows of respect as they filed away.

Without looking at him, Leliana switched her language back to common. “I take it Kallian found you?”

“Yeah.”

“And she told you about the alienage?”

“How did you know?”

“It was obvious in the tavern that was where her mind was heading. I’m surprised she sought you out to tell you.”

“She… kinda didn’t. I stumbled on her.”

A brief smile crossed Leliana’s lips. “She found herself somewhere she shouldn’t have been.”

“Yeah.” Keeran didn’t feel the same mirth, not after what he had just seen and heard. Kallian’s vivid descriptions still roiled his stomach. “Anyway, she needs you.”

“Where is she?”

“My chambers.”

Leliana put her knife down and began walking toward the Inquisitor with intent. “Oh my. The things she gets up to when out of my sight.”

“It’s not like that!” Keeran sputtered, his mind drawn back to the moment he met the warden, and her hilariously unfunny accusations.

“I know. I just like watching you squirm.”

Keeran followed his spymaster up to his quarters, giving the woman a respectful distance not only out of fear, but also the knowledge that she would need a little time alone with her elven lover if Kallian were to be calmed down. Indeed, after making his way up his own stairwell with measured sloth, he found Leliana, her hood pulled down to her shoulders, sitting on his couch and holding Kallian in her arms. The sobs had stopped in his brief absence, but the Hero of Ferelden remained silent and still. For a time, the only sounds in the room were the faint crackles from his opulent fireplace.

Not knowing where to stand or sit, Keeran made his way to his large disheveled bed, and began inspecting it as if it were the most important piece of furniture in the world. The women behind him did not say anything as he did so, and a part of his mind worried he had walked in too soon.

“She said I should continue the story.” Leliana said out of the blue, which caused the Inquisitor to turn around. “You need to hear the rest.”

“Are you sure that’s wise? She’s… told me a lot already. Maybe you should take her somewhere.”

“You wanted to know, Inquisitor.” The spymaster said as she made ice-cold eye contact with him while at the same time showing nothing but pure warmth to her elf. “If I recall, she said you wouldn’t like all the details.”

“It looks like she’s the one having trouble with them.”

Kallian Tabris turned to face the Inquisitor. Her hair matted against her head as she moved away from Leliana, and her large elven eyes were deep red, wracked with heavy emotions. “You weren’t there.” She spat.

“Will finishing the story really help?” He asked as he took a seat on the corner of his bed, as close to the two as he could manage without awkwardly pulling another seat closer to them.

Kallian nodded upward at Leliana, and the two shared a glance that spoke volumes without words.

Leliana closed her eyes and squeezed the warden’s hand before taking in a sigh.

“It will. It’s nice to get this off her chest. I confess, I won’t be able to tell her story as well as she can, but I’ll try.”

***

_Cyrion Tabris regarded his daughter as if she were a monster that had come out of a nightmare, a creature far worse than the Tevinters who had shoved him into a cage like an animal. And after her horrific display in slaughtering his captors, then bashing the lock with a weapon while screaming like a beast, he might have been right._

_Kallian sobbed on the floor, the blood that stuck to her skin growing colder and stickier with each passing breath. The salty water that flowed from her eyes, nose, and blubbering lips helped wash some of it away, but more remained stuck to her hair, over her ruined armor, and all across her body. The hot baptism of human blood now clung to her like an itchy, horrible membrane, not unlike the terrible growths and putrid abominations she saw in the mage’s tower._

_“Papa.” She managed to say yet again as she rocked back and forth, her mind racing faster than it ever had before. He was alive! She had saved him just in time! And Shianni too! The image of her cousin back on her feet, speaking clearly and with her usual vigor, filled Kallian with an indescribable twisting in her gut. Not unpleasant, but not something that made her want to stand up and cheer. It just made her weep all the harder._

_But how many elves died for this to happen? How many people, many of whom she grew up with, would never see freedom, or had been slaughtered, in her absence? And how many humans did she kill to get here? How many of their lives did she ruin in an impulsive and uncontrollable need for violent revenge?_

_The mental image of her fist hitting Leliana’s jaw clung to her like hot tree sap, refusing to leave. Kallian let out another wail as she groveled on the blood soaked floor. Oh Maker, her arms and legs hurt. Her whole body ached alongside them. Not all of the blood that soaked through her ruined Grey Warden armor was human. She bled from every limb, from her stomach, her ears, and her forehead. The humans had not let her kill them unopposed, after all. A dull haze settled on her as she rocked and breathed on the bloody floor, and a spinning dizziness was coming fast on its heels._

_“Kallian?” Cyrion, her papa, asked after shaking the worry out of his head. “Is it really you?”_

_She nodded at him, and droplets of crimson fell from her head._

_And then she knew the monster was gone from his eyes, replaced by a tiny and shivering elf he had raised from birth. Though she was covered in the remains of her victims and her own lifeblood, Kallian’s papa rushed forward and fell to his knees, then wrapped her in a hug so deep that it almost became impossible to breathe._

_“My little girl.” He said into her ear as the other elves, themselves struggling with the shock of their violent rescue, elves she had not realized shared his cage, began to file out of the room and take stock of their newfound freedom. A few of them grabbed discarded weaponry and turned them on their former owners, ending what Kallian had begun._

_But none of that mattered, because father and daughter remained on the floor, shutting the world away and leaving the two of them alone._

_“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” Cyrion said as he pulled away from the embrace and held Kallian’s chin with his hand. Much of the blood on her clothes had transferred to him as he touched her, but he didn’t seem to care._

_“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” He continued as he made sure to bring Kallian’s eyes to his, a twinkle of genuine satisfaction crossed his gaze. “You’re so much like your mother.”_

_That did it. Kallian yelled again, but it wasn’t a feral roar or an anguished cry, it was just a sound of indescribable release, relief, and joy. She fell back into her papa’s strong arms and wept again, taking more joy in the reunion than she thought physically possible. For a moment, the depth of her betrayal of her friends, and the crushing guilt of her violence, melted away as she lost herself in her father’s arms. In that brief embrace, she wasn’t a warden anymore, nor was she a fighter or a scrappy young woman, but just a little elf who needed her papa._

_***_

_Kallian and Cyrion held each other upright as they made their way back home, both of them on shaky legs. Cyrion’s imprisonment had been brief, but the Tevinters were not gentle when they shoved him into a cage. For her part, many of Kallian’s cuts ran deeper than she realized, especially one on her thigh just below an armored plate. She had to start limping just to remain upright. The unrelenting dizziness that made her mind swim also kept her hobbled._

_As they limped back to the house she grew up in, Kallian watched her people celebrate with usual elven caution. Fearful of reprise, but too overjoyed to hold back completely. A small handful of the healthiest among them passed around kegs of ale looted from the Tevinter barracks, and drank deep from the stolen liquid. But the majority seemed more concerned with taking stock of their recent circumstances and move forward._

_The number of faces in the alienage were far fewer than Kallian remembered. These were not just the survivors of slavers, but survivors of Howe’s purges and whatever illnesses swept their shared home. They had suffered, died, and lost their dignity time and again, like elves often did._

_But they survived._

_Just like she had._

_And yet again, the image of what she did to Leliana flashed in her mind, growing stronger as she moved closer to the spot where it happened. Whatever warmth she imagined she would feel on the day she returned home felt like oil inside her skin as she realized what she had done to her friends._

_Kallian’s childhood house was just as she remembered, if a little messier, and covered with a thin sheet of dust. The door creaked open with a loud groan of protest, its damaged hinges barely holding together. And a large hole gaped in the roof, letting water drip into the sitting area. But no matter how ratty and dilapidated the building look, it was still home. Her weeping had left her eyes dry and her body even more pained by the time they arrived, and she could only manage a thin tight-lipped smile as she took in the familiar sights and smells once again._

_Shianni and Soris stood inside, waiting for the two of them. They spared little time for conversation as soon as they saw Kallian’s bloodied condition. In a whirlwind, Soris and Cyrion left the house to find whatever food they could cook for the returned heroine, while Shianni took a pail of water and alcohol, and helped Kallian cleanse her body._

_Her armor, the blue and silver symbol of being a Grey Warden, had been rendered into a broken wreck by her fighting. Just like her knife when she freed her father, the armor fell apart as its leather straps were unhooked and its padding was shed. Many of the metal plates had been dented, bent, or cloven in half by brutal weapon strikes. The leather and cloth underneath had not only been soaked entirely through by copious blood, but the stiches and seams were in no condition to hold together. By the time she shed it all, the armor sat in a disorganized pile of red mush on the floor._

_Without armor, the extent of Kallian’s new injuries were apparent. Not as bad as the darkspawn attack and easily bandaged, but still painful. The one on her leg caused her to hiss. After that, the world became a blur of cold water, gentle brushes with a washcloth, and Shianni needing to make several anxious trips outside the house to dump out the dark crimson water, only to replace it with more a few moments later. After Kallian’s shoulder-length black hair had been thoroughly cleaned, the last batch of water sat on the open fire for several long minutes, heating up to a comfortable temperature for one last cleansing. Kallian sat in front of the steaming pot the entire time, knees raised to her chin, and arms wrapped around her folded legs. Shianni sat behind her, content with brushing out the warden’s cleaned hair with a fine comb._

_In her mind, she warred like she often did. How could she feel so terrible, after she had succeeded so much?_

_“Simple,” her mind replied, and showed her the image of her fist impacting Leliana’s face again._

_On the trek back to the house, Kallian expected to see her comrades waiting for her. She had been in too much emotional and physical turmoil to predict what they might have said, but she knew it wouldn’t be pleasant. But they were not there. They were nowhere to be found in the alienage._

_The warm water bath left Kallian calmed and weary, but she could not find peace. Not even her father’s return, both his and Soris’ arms loaded with food donated by elves happy to treat their savior with the best they had, made her feel better. The meal he cooked with the ingredients, while surrounded by most of the people she felt closest to, also did not help._

_Even when she lay down in the bed she had slept in all her life, surrounded by memories and a grateful alienage, her house filled with her healthy and smiling family, lifted her spirits._

_As a warden, Kallian had grown used to having nightmares as she drifted off to sleep. But none of them had ever been as bad as that night. Her dreams consisted of nothing but replaying that moment again and again, forcing her to confront the time she turned her anger on the only human who had shown her unconditional love._


End file.
